Truths and Lies
by Delaedyn
Summary: Loki finally has what he always wanted - the throne. But his work is not over - Thanos still wants him dead, and Odin has hidden away the tesseract. With his hands tied with the duties of a king, he is forced to call on the aid of a girl with unusual abilities. Little do they know, their uneasy alliance will have ramifications that will stretch far beyond Asgard.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_ Hi everyone! Sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I've gone through and revised the first 3 chapters once I got a better feel for my main character. I'm pretty busy with school and work so I may not get to post as often as I'd like, but I'll do my best to not leave you all hanging from chapter to chapter! Thanks for your patience and I'm glad you enjoyed what I've shared so far.

Chapter 1

 _It is better to have a lion at the head of an army of sheep, than a sheep at the head of an army of lions. – Daniel Defoe_

Loki walked down the long, towering halls of the castle, his footsteps echoing up the high walls of stone and sparkling glass to resonate in the domed ceilings above. He wore his glamour, as always, with a mixed sense of pleasure and disdain. His situation wasn't ideal. Yes, he had wanted the Asgardian throne ever since he first sat on it during Thor's exile, but he had always imagined himself ruling as, well, himself; not masquerading as Odin. However, his disguise was necessary, least of which was due to the timely disappearance of the real king and his current reputation with Asgardians, and more importantly the fact that the Chitauri were to think him dead.

When he had lost the scepter on Midgard and the tesseract to Thor, he knew that they would come for him. They had made it clear that if he did not return the scepter, that they would hunt him to the edges of the universe and torment him. Indefinitely. Being locked in Odin's dungeons had added even further insult to injury; even though the Avengers dealt a mighty blow to the Chitauri, they had not destroyed them entirely. It would take them time to regain their strength and unfortunately for Loki, Asgardians (and frost giants) have a particularly long life-span. It would only be a matter of time before they came for him. Being locked in his father's dungeon was equivalent to being served up on a silver platter. He had no doubt in his mind that if Odin was given the choice of delivering Loki to the Chitauri or going to war with them, that Loki would be delivered in shackles, complete with a gift bow tied to his neck. Loki had no intention of waiting for them to make good on their threat, even if it took them a thousand years to do so.

As such, his first and most important mission was to find the tesseract, which appeared to be easier said than done. Months had passed since the dark elves were defeated, and still he had not found the cube. The first place he had checked was Odin's vault, complete with various other relics. However, upon great inspection, the cube was nowhere to be found. It was clear that Odin must have hidden it as soon as he learned of Loki's escape with Thor. This put Loki in a bit of a bind. He had already handed over the Aether to The Collector, at the recommendation of the Asgardian council. They were worried, rightly so, that having so much power in one place would prove troublesome for Asgard. He was loath to give up an alternative bargaining tool if the tesseract could not be found, but had to play along so as to not draw suspicion to himself.

So, his hunt continued with no success. Being a king put a damper on his free time, to say the least. There were many responsibilities he had to attend to, which he would have enjoyed more were he not obligated to return a particularly important artifact. Still, he wasted no time in stretching his hands at ruling the moment he was on Odin's throne. He had already had the majority of the castle repaired, and what was left of Asgardian nobility returned, along with a new mass of castle servants to tend to the keep. He had sent out parties to retrieve many of the escaped prisoners, even sending Sif to retrieve her arch enemy Lorelei, which he was sure she had enjoyed.

It burned him to do kindness for those who had turned their backs on him, but he had no choice. For now. Perhaps over time he could begin to gather his own followers, after careful observation and selection. But at the moment, Loki had no friends in Asgard, which made his rule and his secret hunt for the tesseract that much more challenging. He couldn't inquire about the cube without drawing suspicion – It was highly confidential information, and Odin would have obviously known where the cube was located. To inquire of its whereabouts would be just as effective as him removing his glamour.

To make matters worse, his responsibilities meant that he didn't have the time to use his skills to spy on others for information. At the very least, he was sure Thor's friends might be in on its whereabouts, there was no way to get close to them and still play Odin at the same time. As talented as he was, he couldn't be in two places at once. Actually, he could. He chuckled inwardly to himself. But that little parlor trick would do him no good here. Visual doubles didn't report information. He tried to watch them as often as he could, using his abilities Frigga had taught him, casting a visualization of their interactions within the privacy of the king's suite. But so far his efforts have proved fruitless. Either Thor's friends knew nothing, or they were better at keeping high security secrets than he had originally suspected. His inability to devote the majority of his time to his spying habits didn't help either.

What he could really use was a person on the inside, someone who could infiltrate Thor's friends and gain their trust. But that required an ally, which Loki had none. He was a one-man show.

He looked upon Asgard with dark eyes. For most of his life, this was his home. He had loved Asgard once. Perhaps there was still a part of him that did, if he had any ability to love left. More breathtaking than anywhere on Midgard, and more alive and bright than Jotunheim. The shining city held countless memories for him, most of them fond. However, that fondness had been replaced by bitterness and lies when he found out his true heritage. When that happened, it was as if Asgard had lost all its color. Everything he thought was true turned out to be a lie, including all of his memories of family, love, unity, _purpose_. Everything became black and white; dead to him. He doubted he would ever see it so radiantly ever again.

Still, he finally had what he wanted… the throne. And from a place so high, he could transform Asgard into his own, molding it over the years so intricately into his design that any traces of his former life would be but a memory, left to be forgotten. Perhaps then it would shine with the brightness that he missed. Only then would he awake Odin from the stasis he had trapped him in and show him his good work. _"Look at what I have created."_ He would say to him. _"I am the rightful king."_

Then what? Would he kill him? A part of Loki wanted to. He wanted to break the man who broke him, put him to his knees. He would show Odin what it felt like to be a pawn in someone else's game. After all, that's all Loki was to him. A tool to be used when the time was right, a time which never came. Only then would he possibly kill him. The idea was sweet on his tongue, his chest burning with hot rage and vengeful anticipation. It seemed fitting that Odin would be destroyed by the lies that he himself had created. Loki may be a monster, but Odin helped make him that way.

However, the other part, the part that stirred deep beneath him, locked away in a cage within himself, was the young boy who grew up idolizing him, loving him. With each betrayal he concocted, with each lie he wrought and each life he took, that small voice grew fainter. Loki loathed that the naïve boy was still inside him somewhere. He needed more time, to make sure that when the opportunity presented itself, he would truly be ready.

"All in good time." Loki whispered to himself. He would have plenty of time before he had to make that choice. Perhaps with enough time he could snuff out whatever love was left in his heart. Then he could do what needed to be done.

With his mind back to the present, he continued walking through the hall. He was once again Odin, taking on his stride, squaring his shoulders, chin held high with just the slightest hint that he was trying to hide his increasing frailty. There were a few servants roaming the hall with him. Some were polishing the armor sitting in the nooks until they gleamed. Others were cleaning the windows, their fractals sending rainbows of bright color across the floor. Still others were cleaning the floors until they reflected the intricately gilded ceilings above.

He walked with the presence of a king, neither overtly acknowledging or ignoring those around him. His very presence seemed to envelop those around him, causing heads to turn.

He was almost through the end of the hall, when one girl caught his keen eye. Loki missed nothing when it came to his environment, a skill he had developed growing up next to Thor. Thor was loud, brash, reckless. Loki was the opposite… reserved, calculating, observing. It was the only space he had to grow into, and he had mastered it.

Any other individual would have passed her by without a thought. At a glance, she was completely inconspicuous. She worked diligently, and yet there was something off about her and the way she carried herself. It was subtle, but he could tell from her posture that she didn't want to be noticed. She was trying too hard to blend in, and in doing so stood out. His suspicion was confirmed when she stole a furtive glance at him and quickly turned away, clearly bewildered by their eye contact. It was so very different from every other servant who looked at him directly, a sign of respect in the proud Asgardian culture. She didn't just seem shy… she had the behaviors of someone who didn't want to be seen, like she wanted to fall through a hole in the floor and escape him. She seemed terrified. Now why would a servant be terrified of Odin?

"You, girl. What is your name?" he inquired in his kingly voice. She was hardly a girl; very obviously a woman, old enough to marry, her figure evident in her simple servant's robes. But to old men, all of the youthful looked like children to them, and Loki had to play his part.

She jumped at his voice, and looked him straight in the eyes for the first time. Her eyes were blue with flecks of silver, a strange combination that he had never seen before, and sure enough the fear was front and center. But more than that, he noticed her eyes were unfocused and confused. His blood ran cold. It brought back an old memory of when he was first learning to use his glamour with Frigga. She had the same look in her eyes when his glamour was failing.

' _Try harder, Loki. You must put all your energy into it for the glamour to hold. I can still see parts of you.'_ Frigga had told him.

Loki glanced around to see if anyone else detected that the king was looking a little… off. But no one noticed, which meant his illusion held. They were continuing their duties, while pretending not to eavesdrop on the exchange that was currently happening right in front of them. This meant there was something particular about this girl. This one random, pointless girl.

He looked back at her, and her eyes seemed to focus for a moment before going glassy again. The young girl's jaw hung open, and she looked like a fish out of water, words stuck in her throat. Before she could respond, another young girl came over to him, her freckled cheeks red with embarrassment.

"My apologies my king. This girl doesn't speak. She is mute." she explained, with a small dip of a curtsey.

"Mute?" he replied. _'Yeah, sure she is…_ ' he thought skeptically. "For what reason would we staff a mute servant in the house of Odin? How is she supposed to address nobility when they give her orders?"

"I-I'm not sure, my king. She started after the dark elves attack. She does work hard though, my liege, and keeps to herself. Hilde usually only has her work in the lesser halls, helping with the wash and such, but we were short staffed today." The freckled servant was wringing her hands nervously in her apron.

He paused for a moment. "Does she have a name?" His eyes never left the silent girl as he addressed her savior.

"Aye, sir. Her name is Amelia."

Loki nodded. "Well, then. Amelia. I merely meant to compliment you on your work. Carry on." He turned back to the freckled girl. "If she is going to be working the upper levels, then inform Hilde to train her on the mannerisms expected of a high class servant. There is no place for common behavior here."

The freckled girl got the point, and elbowed Amelia to get her to look him square in the eyes as the freckled girl did. Once he was sure he held Amelia's gaze, he gave a curt nod of approval and continued walking, leaving the two servants alone in the corridor.

He walked briskly, a dark cloud in his mind. At first he couldn't figure out why she would be afraid of him. Now, he was absolutely certain what it was.

Somehow, she could see him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

 _The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and must therefore be treated with great caution. – J.K. Rowling_

Amelia (as she was called here on Asgard) was on edge ever since her run-in with the king. She replayed the scene in her mind over and over again. She had never worked in the great hall until now. She was typically assigned to the lower levels, where she was far away from the king and anyone of importance, but today a servant had broken their leg so she was required to fill in until they could be mended and return to work. As such, she had never seen the king in person until then. She was quite surprised when she finally got a good look at him.

Really, it was more like she _couldn't_ get a good look at him. The king looked… blurry. Literally. The shapes and colors of his garb and face seemed to shift and spin like dust dancing in the sunlight. It made it impossible to see him properly.

That part was not unusual for her. It was something she often experienced thanks to her 'built in lie detector,' her special skill that made her one of the many super humans that seemed to be cropping up like daisies everywhere back on Earth. But unlike other people who had acquired their abilities through accidents or top secret experiments, Amelia was born with it. Whenever a person lied, they blurred and shimmered, but only for a moment. It was more of an inconvenience than not… people lied _all_ the time, over things big and small. It gave her the bad habit of seeing through people when they least wanted it and made people wary of her. There were many memories of herself as a child, filled with youthful innocence, unwittingly stating the truth that people didn't want to notice or acknowledge and the backlash that would follow. Needless to say, she had learned pretty quickly to keep her ability to herself over the years. Until now.

What _was_ unusual about this was that his blurriness didn't fade. People only ever shimmered for a moment, as the lie was being said. The king, on the other hand, was out of focus _all the time_. It was something she had never experienced before and it completely baffled her. What made it worse was that the more she stared, the worse it got, and the compounding effect had begun to give her a massive headache.

Maybe something was wrong with her ability. Perhaps she was broken somehow, or there was something about this place that affected her senses. She looked around at the other individuals spread up and down the hall and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. No, it was only happening with him. She became acutely aware of her odd behavior, and tried her best to focus on her duty, but the nagging voice in her head wouldn't leave her alone. The problem scared her.

Amelia needed her superpower to survive staying in Asgard. She had no special spy skills to rely on. She came from a normal family with a normal background and had, for the most part, led a normal, boring life. On top of all that, her acting skills were embarrassingly shameful, which meant she'd give herself away immediately if she didn't figure out how to hide her Midgardian quirks. Asgardians spoke differently, not just with their accent, but with their phrases and cultural references. Phrases as "I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore" or slang terms and swear words like "sweet" or "bullshit" would make her stand out like a sore thumb. So, her quickest solution for the time being was to pretend to be mute. It was the only sure way to keep her foreign dialect and diction from exposing her. But even without talking, she relied on her lie detector to ensure that when people talked about her in her presence or tried to speak with her directly that they believed she was mute, and more importantly, Asgardian. Without it, she'd have no way of knowing for certain if anyone suspected her of not belonging… which she didn't.

Amelia had arrived on Asgard by accident. A well-timed portal during the attack on Greenwich had been her one-way ticket to the city of Asgard. The experience was jarring. One moment she was running for her life and the next, she stumbled onto the winding streets of the golden city.

The portal behind her had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her stranded. At first, she didn't know where she was, and had hid in a dark alleyway out of fear as she tried to get her bearings. Shouts and pieces of conversations from passersby such as "Thor is on Midgard!" and "For Asgard!" quickly helped her figure out where she was, which then left an incapacitating shock of its own.

It had taken some time for her to come out of her dazed state and accept her situation. But once she came to terms with her new reality, she found herself drawn into Asgard and all of its magic. She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the great golden palace whose countless towers reached for the blue sky above it, smoke still billowing out of its damaged walls. The city was certainly wracked with destruction, and yet Amelia, so awed by this new alien place, had found herself staring at the architecture of the buildings, the clothing of the people, the technology above her head and below her feet. The water channels running through the city with cobblestone bridges arching over them, the flowers, the smell of the shops…

It had sparked something in her, a hunger. Everyone had the secret desire for adventure and escaping the redundancy of life. Few were ever presented with the opportunity to pursue it though. She realized that she had a choice. She could return to Earth (no doubt the king would send her back), or she could stay and have experiences that few humans would ever get the chance to have. There was an entire new _world._ Surely a place lightyears away from Earth will be lightyears different in the type of experiences one would have. How does the society run? What sort of jobs are there? What do they do for fun? How many other worlds can they visit? Earth, by comparison, was a dull monotonous hue of work and school, of long days and sleepless nights…

Amelia felt her stomach knot itself in fear and grief, and with it the cold reminder of what she had lost on Earth a few months prior. The nights were the hardest for her. Old memories crept up on her yet they felt as if they had happened yesterday. She pushed them away, unable and unwilling to deal with them at the moment. Still, she couldn't help but wonder… could she leave her sleepless nights behind her? Would this place give her enough distance from her past to be able to leave her nightmares and finally heal?

She had decided to stay. It was a brash decision made from a troubled heart. So, she swiped some local attire from a distracted shopkeeper and burned her earth clothes in a nearby brazier. Unfortunately, her plan had gone no farther than that. Much of the city was still damaged from the attack that it had undergone the day before, with relief efforts still underway. The streets were filled with troubled Asgardians, their mouths heavy with gossip, which helped Amelia understand her situation. The queen was killed, along with numerous others, and a beautiful funeral service was held the night prior. More bodies are being recovered however, and the people around her spoke of another night of mourning and funeral rites.

She had followed the flow of the people, aimless in her wandering, as she tried to figure out her next move. Could a mute girl find work in a place like this? Something that would involve using her hands perhaps, such as gardening or baking?

In that moment, shouts rang out amongst those around her, and she had been herself swept up into the crowd as they rushed around the corner, to find a collapsed building that was still being cleared.

The people in front of her had cleared away just in time for her to see a father, covered in dust and dirt, erupting into great heaving sobs over the body of his wife and young daughter. Amelia had stared in silent horror at his big strong hands, knuckles and fingers red with blood, and realized he must have clawed away at the stones to find his family. Many others were still digging, some with strange tools she had never seen that seemed to disintegrate some of the larger chunks too heavy for even Asgardians to lift. She scarcely noticed, her eyes glued to the man in front of her while her vision blurred.

Her own painful memories washed over her like a great tidal wave, threatening to drown her. Her own hands, scratched and bleeding, her parents' lifeless bodies before her, her little sister…

She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from vomiting. This was _exactly_ what she wanted to avoid. The irony of her situation wasn't lost on her, and she would have laughed if she wasn't fighting back her sobs. She had covered her face and slunk against the nearest wall, her body aching with fresh grief that she couldn't contain.

That was how Eowyn had found her – the same freckled girl who had come to her rescue today when the king had approached her, and who would later become her roommate and guardian.

"Did you know them?" she had asked her, as she laid a delicate arm across her shoulders.

Amelia shook her head, her voice gone from her even if she had wanted to speak.

"What is your name?" the kind girl asked. Amelia refused to answer, so she offered her own. "My name is Eowyn." Amelia, however, kept her silence.

"Did you lose your family as well?" Eowyn asked her. Amelia looked in the girl's eyes, and after a long moment, gave the slightest nod. It was the truth, after all. "What were their names? Do you have anyone you can go to?"

Amelia, true to her commitment to stay, said nothing and looked away. Eowyn furrowed her brow in concern. "Don't you speak?" Another long silence followed. "Come." Eowyn offered. "I will make sure you're cared for. Perhaps a fresh start is what you need. And a friend. You will find your voice in time."

As Amelia followed the girl, she learned that Eowyn worked and lived in the castle, and that they were in need of more staff to replace those they had lost. Eowyn had offered to pull some strings to get her a position at the keep so that the two could be roommates together and Eowyn could help her recover from her trauma. Amelia was never sure what sort of connections Eowyn had, but whatever she had said or done must have worked. Amelia maintained her silence, but Eowyn was not swayed in her commitment to help her. She gave her her name – Amelia – and Amelia was granted one of the lowest positions in the keep, where she had little influence and zero access to anything of even the slightest importance. Regardless, Amelia was grateful for it, and even though she couldn't tell her, she cherished Eowyn's charity. Eowyn taught her how to do her duties, primarily cleaning, but with some tools that were new to her. Amelia was a fast learner and it wasn't long before she was doing her work independently. Within a couple of months, she was well-established and, for all intents and purposes, invisible to those around her unless they explicitly needed her for something. As long as she did her job, everyone else left her alone. She had managed to find stability here until she could decide what she wanted to do next.

Therefore, her first fear when the king had called on her was that he somehow knew she was an imposter. Would he lock her up? Send her back to Earth? What was the punishment for being an illegal alien (literally)? This was one of those times where her big imagination wasn't very helpful.

Her situation got exponentially worse when Odin requested her name and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. The swirl of colors that blurred his face had made her nauseous, and she had frozen like a deer in headlights. She tried to focus on one part of him – his eyes – and when she did, she did not see the blue eyes of the old man that she had seen in some of the great portraits. Instead, she saw younger enigmatic eyes, the color of pale jade. A cold panic hit her when she realized that those hidden eyes could see her too. Not her as a servant, but as someone who had something to hide. The look he was giving felt… dangerous. Threatening. Her golden rule forgotten, she had begun to open her mouth, her fear compelling her to try to talk her way out of his piercing stare, even if that meant begging his forgiveness, coming forth with her identity, and being sent back home. Anything to get her away from his prying eyes before he discovered there was more to her than her lack of Asgardian blood.

Eowyn had come to her rescue, speaking on her behalf, and Amelia was hopeful that he didn't notice that there was something odd about the way she had been staring at him. However, one more glance at him made her heart sink through to her stomach. The damage was already done. She could tell by the way those green eyes continued to stare at her.

One thing was certain… whoever this man was, he was _not_ Odin. And whoever he was knew that she knew that.

* * *

Loki returned to his quarters and cleared his schedule for the rest of the day, which was not seen as terribly odd, due to Odin's health and the loss of his wife. He paced in his great study, his trident tapping the ground while a shimmering image of Amelia hung in the air, showing her hard at work. He watched her intently. Their brief introduction had shaken her, only heightening Loki's suspicions. Her nervousness was palpable in how she carried herself and observed her surroundings. Supposedly she was mute, but Loki suspected that was a lie. He was certain he had almost scared her into speaking before the other servant had interrupted them, which meant two things. First, she was a liar, and people only lied if they had something to hide. Second, she was easily cowed. He had almost broken through her shoddy defense in a matter of seconds just by staring at her. She was easily frightened and she knew too much. There was no better recipe for secrets to be exposed. He prepared to change his glamour into a random servant so he could sneak in and kill her, thus eliminating the threat she posed, but he paused as a thought occurred to him.

What if she was working for someone? Servants were always a cheap, disposable way to have eyes and ears in places that someone of a more prominent nature would be unable to tread. The usefulness of this depended on the ability of the servant to remain inconspicuous, which was something that this girl clearly lacked. Normally, one would select an individual who was already experienced in such… dealings. Amelia, on the other hand, looked as out of place as a lamb in a wolves' den. Therefore, there must have been another reason that someone would opt to use her, specifically. Perhaps she had a unique skill that others didn't. He once again remembered how she was staring at him, as if she could see through him.

It was possible someone had hired her under suspicions that the king wasn't quite himself. What better way to test that, than to have someone who could see through magic just by looking? It would require no interaction, no length of time spent observing him… the possibility of it chilled him to his bones.

Even if he did kill her, whoever had hired her would certainly hire someone else to take her place. Would they have the same skill as her? He may not get a chance to find out, and it wasn't worth the risk. At this point, killing her would do him little good. Not only would he be left without answers, but her death would draw suspicion and they would simply plant a new spy in her place, with even more vigor of discovering the truth. He had no time or patience to be watching his back with every servant he encountered. He needed to pull up this weed from its roots before it tore up his delicate foundation.

He had to get her to his quarters somehow, where he could take his time getting answers from her. Having her sent to his quarters officially was out of the question. It needed to be in secret, since he didn't plan on letting her leave alive. There was no getting around it, then… he had to wait until she was alone so he could retrieve her himself.

He was taking a risk by not going after her immediately – there was no telling if she was going to speak to somebody before he could swoop in and silence her. However, if she intended to keep up her silent façade, then she would not speak to another person in public, even if it were a whisper. No, she would have to wait until she and her benefactor were alone. And if that happened, then he could jump in and kill them both quickly, using their privacy to his advantage.

As he waited, he began to research all he could about her within the Asgardian Citizenship Database, as well as the Keep's employment records. His research in the database yielded virtually nothing about her as well. She had no documentation prior to Malekith's attack that indicated she was a citizen of Asgard; no birth documents, medical documents, or family lineage. A simple entry stated, _'Citizen's documentation lost and irretrievable on 50000.53.29. New file created on 50000.54.8.'_

The next entry was a simple medical assessment entry, which stated, _'Individual suffers from muteness caused by post-traumatic stress. Lineage unknown, no known surviving family members. Brief assessment indicates individual is in otherwise perfect health. Individual is granted level 1 clearance.'_

Loki's expression soured at the information before him. She had no documented past, yet was granted an entry-level castle position. Her lack of access to the more secured areas of the keep did little to alleviate his concern. Surely someone must have pulled some strings to get her employed here. There would be consequences for such lax security measures.

What he did learn was where her quarters were and who her roommate was. It wasn't too much of a surprise when he discovered it was the servant who had come to her rescue earlier that day. Eowyn was her name. Loki realized that his only chance to snatch Amelia without anyone knowing may be in her own room at the end of the day. This would make Eowyn's presence in an issue, so she needed to be dealt with. So, while he maintained his watch on Amelia, he used his ability of illusion and projection from the comfort of his room to disguise himself as the staff supervisor Hilde, and sent Eowyn on a last-minute errand out into the city that would occupy her late into the evening. Plenty of time for him to snatch Amelia from her room once she retired to bed. Now all he had to do was wait.

Hours passed by and Loki began to fidget and tap his foot impatiently as he watched her behaviors closely. Even anything so much as a suspicious glance or a nod at someone, and he was ready to forgo his interrogation and deal with her in an instant. But Amelia did nothing of the sort. Loki could tell that the girl was anxious, though. Amelia always kept herself in public places. She entered and left the mess hall with the rest of the servants, and sat in the servant lounge surrounded by others late into the evening until the fires in the great hearths had almost dwindled. Loki began to worry that Eowyn would return from her task before Amelia retired to her room. However, as the evening dragged on, Amelia began to yawn, her eyes becoming heavy with sleep. He watched as she fought it, her eyes looking around for her friend, her expression troubled. She was alone now, all other servants had already retired, in preparation for an early morning. Her yawns became longer and more frequent, until finally she surrendered and got up from her couch to retreat to her bed.

Up until this point, Loki had been brimming with impatience. Now he lounged back in his seat, his leather boots placed upon his desk as he watched her prepare herself for bed by undoing her long hair and changing down into her sleeping clothes, letting her stew in her anxiety now that she was by herself.

Only when she was ready for bed in her nightclothes with her feet bare, did Loki stand up and transport out of the room, his new glamour already in place.

* * *

Despite the warmth inside her quarters, Amelia's skin was tight with goosebumps, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The air was still around her, the silence deafening. She had waited for Eowyn, hoping that her friend's presence would deter anyone, imposter or otherwise, from sneaking in during the night to either kill or kidnap her. But Eowyn never showed, and Amelia's imagination was coming up with a variety of horrible possibilities as to her friend's absence. She had thought of searching for her, but the castle was vast, with many areas off-limits to her. Plus, the added issue of walking the empty halls alone were enough to keep her helplessly glued to the couch. As the night dragged on and her eyelids became heavy, she realized that she was now alone in the common room. The vast space of the room and the dancing shadows from the firelight were enough to spook her into retreating to her much smaller, more manageable room where she could light every corner.

She looked around her room; all the lights were on, and it was a small space. The room didn't' really have any places for someone to hide, and she only hoped locking her doors and windows would be enough. She had swiped a knife from the mess hall when she was eating dinner, keeping it tucked in the belt that wrapped her servant's robe, and was prepared to use it if necessary. She would sleep with it in her hand tonight, and probably for the next month at least.

She stood, ready for bed, her clothes changed and her hair brushed and stared helplessly at her small bed. The emptiness of the small room made it feel large and yet suffocating at the same time. Would she dream her usual nightmares? Or will she dream of cold green eyes peeling back her soul like a lemon?

Perhaps check the locks just one more time…

She turned and nearly jumped out of her skin when she came face to face with Eowyn.

Or it would have looked like Eowyn, if her roommate's appearance wasn't blurring and shifting all over. Her stomach dropped through the floor, and her throat became instantly dry with fear, her scream stuck somewhere between her brain and her lips. It was _him_. The urge to speak came up again, to demand who he was and what he had done with her friend, but this time the dryness of her throat helped her to swallow her words before they came out.

Amelia was frozen like a deer in headlights. This mysterious man in disguise was blocking her only exit. But if she could get past him, she could make a dash for the common room, knock over furniture, maybe even scream… others might wake up…

She clutched the dinner knife in her hand.

"You really don't think you can get by me, do you?" His voice was a perfect imitation of Eowyn's, which made his cockiness all the more disturbing. Eowyn _never_ talked like that. He crossed the room with a swiftness she couldn't possibly dodge and grabbed her. As soon as his hand grabbed her arm, wind whipped up around her and the room around her spun with dizzy fractals of light washing away her surroundings. The next thing she knew she was standing in what she could only guess were the king's private quarters.

Between the dizzying teleportation and the fake mirage, Amelia almost threw up right then and there on the lavish rug beneath her feet. She fought back the urge by covering her mouth with her hand and sank to her knees as soon as her captor released her arm. She looked up at him through the hair that had fallen in her face. The illusion of Eowyn was gone, already replaced by Odin, the great staff with its trident tip in his hand.

The imposter let out a big sigh and his entire posture eased into one of relaxation. "Ah yes, this room is far more comfortable, don't you think?"

He paced the great expanse of the room they were in for a brief moment as if stretching his legs. Then he stopped in front of her, his boots inches from her hands as she crouched on the floor. He knelt down and tilted her chin up with his finger to make her look at him. She tried her best to focus on his eyes again, to not let the blurring colors bring forth her nausea. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of her forehead. Sure enough, the eyes cleared – green, dangerous, teasing. She took her opportunity, the knife still in her hand. She sliced at him as fast as she could, the edge glinting in the firelight.

He leaned back swiftly, dodging her assault, his hand catching her wrist. His iron grip squeezed, until she let out a gasp of pain, the weapon falling pitifully from her hand with a weak thud. He picked it up, inspecting the blade briefly, before throwing it like a dagger across the room. It lodged itself into a portrait of some unknown elderly royal, the blade tip embedded between the portrait's eyes, swaying slightly.

Amelia's jaw dropped in shock. The man turned back to her, and grabbed her by her jaw, his fingers digging into her cheeks. " _That_ was a very dumb thing to do. Bold, though, I'll give you that." He smirked. She could see it in his eyes. "Let's have a chat, shall we?"

His voice was different now; no longer the deep booming voice of Odin, but a sleeker voice full of devilish mischief. He was a cat with a mouse. She was at his mercy, and he was enjoying it. She peered at him, wanting to see through him, but his mirage stayed in place and the blurring was too much for her. Who was this imposter?

Amelia swallowed the fear in her throat, and struggled to control her shaking body.

"Your roommate said you were a mute. I, however, think otherwise. Should we test it?" His hand grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the floor with surprising ease, her feet scraping for purchase. Her hands tried to pry his fingers off her throat, but it was a fool's effort. He brought her close to his face, their noses inches apart. "Let's see if you find your voice now." he whispered.

He pinned her against the wall. Hard. The trident was in his other hand, the sharp point of it digging into her neck. Panic raced through her, as she tried to keep her mouth shut. He had said he _thought_ she wasn't mute, which meant there could be doubt. He didn't know for sure. She still had a chance to play this off, if she kept silent. A real mute wouldn't be able to speak, even when tortured. Surely he would realize that and give up? Then he would believe her and let her live… after all, a mute girl can't tell any secrets.

The trident tip dug deeper, and a sharp pain laced from its point, as hot blood trickled down her neck, pooling into her collarbone. She gasped in pain, but kept her words locked away. Instead, she continued to struggle, her legs kicking out at him, but doing nothing. Instead, her defiance only seemed to annoy him.

He threw her across the floor, where she skidded to a stop against an ornate chair, her head colliding with the curved wooden leg. She cradled her head in pain, her head swimming. He walked toward her, patiently, the trident in his hand beginning to glow white hot. "Who are you?" he demanded.

That's when she realized… He would kill her regardless. If he continued to suspect her of not being mute, then he would draw out this experience for as long as he could, until he got her to talk and then kill her. Even if he did end up believing her, then he'd believe that she's Asgardian, and therefore can read and write Asgardian. In his mind, all it would take would be a single note from the mute Asgardian girl to expose his secrets.

Either way her life would end here tonight.

If there was something Amelia was afraid of, it was torture. She couldn't even handle watching horror films that had torture in it. The prospect of a long, drawn out evening of unbearable pain was all the persuasion she needed. At the very least, if she spilled the beans now then death would come sooner. Not that she wanted to die, but if she had to choose between a quick death and painful one, then really there was no contest.

"Stop! Please…" Her voice was hoarse, raw from fear and months of disuse.

He let out a laugh and stopped his advance, leaning on his staff casually, its glow gone. "Well, that didn't take much…"

Amelia pulled herself to her feet, using the chair for support. Her head felt tender under her touch, and would definitely have a lump if she survived the night. He took a step toward her, and she backed up around the chair, placing the chair between herself and him, ready to shove it toward him if he came too close. With each advancing step he made, she stepped back warily. He smirked deviously when he noticed their little dance and stood still. He pointed to her with his trident. "You will answer my question. Who are you?"

"I'm nobody, I promise. Please don't kill me." she begged. "I'm sorry I attacked you, I was just... scared."

"You're not from Asgard." he stated. Amelia shook her head vigorously. "You're from Earth." Anger filled him in an instant, hot and palpable, even through his shifting illusion. He once again pointed the weapon at her, it's sharp ends glowing white hot, as if in preparation to fire. "Are you with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"What?" Amelia choked out. She had heard of S.H.I.E.L.D., the secret organization brought to the limelight after the attack on New York. Still, the question took her by surprise. Whoever he was, he was familiar with Earth. How many Asgardians knew about Earth? Did they study it in school? Was Earth and all its cultures and countries well known, or was it only known to a select few?

As Amelia frantically analyzed the situation, the gears started clicking into place, and memories and thoughts coincided like magnets being drawn to one another.

Then she realized… he called it Earth, not Midgard.

She had an idea of who was behind the façade. The realization sent a mixture of panic, shock, and hot rage. Memories of burning bodies, fallen buildings, screaming… oh God, the screaming…

"Don't play dumb with me." The man sneered, his words forcing her to back to the present.

"If I were with S.H.I.E.L.D. then I wouldn't have even gotten myself into this mess!" Her heart raced as she wrestled her wild emotions back into place. She had to tread carefully, choose her words wisely. She had a feeling this man was keen, intelligent, with a dash of crazy. A very big dash of crazy. Probably the whole salt shaker. If he was who she thought, then she was in more trouble than she had originally realized. This man had killed needlessly, without remorse.

"If you're not with S.H.I.E.L.D., then how did a mortal end up on Asgard?"

She eyed the illusion, struggling to see past it. "Greenwich was attacked when I was visiting. Reality was falling apart, things appearing and disappearing. A portal opened up as I was running, and I found myself here."

"Why didn't you try to return to Earth?" He took another step toward her, and Amelia realized she was backed up against the wall. She had nowhere to go.

"The portal disappeared after I stepped through it."

"You could have reached out to someone, anyone. Asgard would have gladly sent you back."

Amelia did her best to side-step his inquiry. "If _you_ had to choose between Earth and Asgard, which would _you_ choose?"

He laughed. It was an attractive laugh, full of genuine amusement, as if she had just told a good joke. "You've got me there. But I find it hard to believe that you willingly left behind all everything you cared about just to waste away your days polishing armor and mopping floors. Either you're lying, or you're a fool."

He was prying and she hated it. Someone like him wouldn't understand her reasons for leaving her world behind.

Once again, she deflected. "Earth wasn't much better… long boring jobs, crappy politics, and reality TV. I'm sure I'm not the first human to imagine leaving planet Earth behind. I just got lucky with the chance to do it."

"And has Asgard lived up to all of your expectations? Do you feel _fulfilled_ cleaning up after people day after day, going completely unnoticed?"

His words stung her, but she tried not to let it show. Sure, she had imagined herself in a more… respectable position, or at least being able to explore Asgard more freely. But she could only do so much with her current limitations.

He scoffed at her silence. "You didn't have a plan, did you? You just decided to stay without thinking of the consequences." By this point, he had come so close to her, that she could smell the crisp cleanliness of his clothes. The swirling illusion was so intense at such a close range, that she was forced to close her eyes against it. "Now your foolishness will cost you. How did you know that I wasn't your charming roommate?"

"You're just not as pretty as she is." she retorted.

"I appreciate your sense of humor. I _don't_ appreciate having my time wasted." She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his fingers take hold of her chin, his touch surprisingly delicate compared to the violence he had just inflicted on her. He tilted her head up. "Open your eyes." He ordered. Amelia obeyed him, despite the pain it caused her. "You seem to have a hard time looking at me. Why is that?"

"I… can't see you. All I see is a blur where… _you_ should be." Amelia confessed, no longer able to hide her ability from him.

"I was concerned that my glamour was failing, however you seem to be the only one who can detect it." He turned her head side to side, as if assessing her. "How is it that you're able to see through my illusion when no one else can?"

"I'm kind of… special. I can tell when someone is lying. They blur, like they're hiding the truth. Your image is a lie, so you blur."

"If you can't see me, then what can you see?"

"Swirling colors, like mixing paint, fuzzy around the edges."

"Anything else?"

She was silent for a long moment before she finally answered, her chin still trapped in his hand. "Your eyes. They're green."

He was silent for a long moment. "Anything else?"

Amelia shook her head.

"Humans…" He muttered, as if the word disgusted him. "You're becoming increasingly troublesome. What's your name? Your real name?"

Amelia was quiet again, her heart struggling through her memories. She hadn't used her real name in months. It was a part of her that she had long since turned her back on, a farewell to the woman she was back on Earth. She cleared her throat to remove the lump from it. "I used to be Isabella."

" _Isabella_." He muttered, as if savoring the name on his tongue. It made Amelia sick to her stomach to hear her name on his lips.

" _Don't_ call me that." she whispered. "You have no right."

Her reaction amused him. "Hmm… I can _taste_ the hate coming off of you. The kind of hate that's had time to fester and grow. I'm rather familiar with it myself."

"A lot of people have reason to hate you. Loki." She stared into his green eyes accusingly.

He laughed and took a step back, letting the illusion vanish. He wasn't what she had expected. She had seen glimpses of him on the news, but the cameras never had a clear shot of him. Up close, he was surprisingly… gorgeous. His dark long hair framed his narrow cheek bones, and his lean was frame dressed in green and black leather armor that fit him impressively well. He was a good head taller than her, and that combined with his otherworldly presence had her feeling as small as a bug. And his eyes… those same jade eyes she saw through his glamour… they were sharper now, and in them she could see amusement, anger, and beneath all that something darker, something broken.

"Impressive. How did you know?" he questioned, his mouth pulled into a wide grin, displaying perfectly white teeth.

"I didn't. I guessed." Amelia admitted. "You seemed to know a lot about Earth, and you're obviously not Thor."

Loki's chipper mood turned to ice. "No. I'm definitely not." Then, his mood switched back in an instant. He began to pace slightly. "I'm impressed that you know my name."

"You tried to conquer Earth. Everyone knows your name."

"Guilty." He replied, although he didn't _look_ guilty at all. "Well, I should thank you, Isabella..." Amelia tried not to flinch at her name. "You've given me a chance to drop my illusion and be myself. You don't know how taxing it is to constantly be someone else, day after day, no one seeing you for who you are."

Amelia stared at him as he casually leaned against his trident. "You mean… _no one_ knows you're here? You have no… accomplices? Allies?"

How did this one man manage to get himself on top of the throne?

"Allies are a thing of the past with a reputation such as mine." Loki replied. "I operate alone." He raised his trident and pointed at her. "And, unfortunately for you, I'd like to keep it that way. Your time is up, Isabella."

"Amelia. My name is Amelia now." She corrected. "I left my past behind me when I came to Asgard."

"Past or future, it makes no difference. My plans are far too delicate to be thwarted by a reckless mortal who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Loki replied.

He advanced on her again, but this time she was able to sidestep and maneuver away from the wall. It made no difference. A flash of green light brought forth an exact duplicate of him standing right behind her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin.

She was going to die here, tonight, right now. Her pulse raced so fast she was sure her heart would explode from the strength of it. There _had_ to be a way to convince him… she wasn't ready to die yet.

An idea came to her mind, one that she hated more than anything. She never would have considered it, at least not under any normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances.

"You don't have to do this."

Loki scoffed, as he and his illusion closed in around her. "Why would I not?"

"I could be useful to you." She stated desperately. She hated the words as soon as they left her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was work for him. But her will to survive was greater than her pride in that moment, and her only relief was that she may find a way to escape his clutches in the future if she could buy herself some time in the present.

Loki smirked at her desperation. "And how exactly would you be useful to me?"

"You know what I can do. You said you have a plan, and you're working alone. I bet there are things even you can't do, things I could be useful for… if you spare my life."

Loki stared at her for a moment, assessing her, his eyes ambiguous. "Why would I possibly put my trust in you when you clearly despise me? You'll betray me as soon as you get the chance."

"Then I'm sure you have ways of making sure that won't happen." Amelia replied. "I don't speak to anyone. I go unnoticed all the time. I can spot liars as soon as the words leave their lips. I'm sure with your authority you can get me within earshot with whoever you want, and they'll speak freely around me since they believe I won't be repeating what they say. On top of it all, you won't have to wear your illusion around me. You can be… yourself."

A grin spread across Loki's face. "Oh, this is good. Here you are, willing to serve a man who has slaughtered thousands of your people, just to save your own skin. How quickly a person can lose their morals when their mortality is staring them in the face."

Amelia pressed her lips together in a thin line, unable to form any sort of defense against his words. He was right, of course… her family would be turning in their graves right now.

He once again closed the gap between them, and his duplicate vanished as quickly as it had come. He idly grabbed a lock of her chestnut-colored hair and twirled it in his fingers. The action was strangely intimate, and Amelia had a feeling he was doing it to intentionally make her uncomfortable. It was working.

"You want me to spare your life. And then what? When you are done doing my bidding and I no longer have a use for you, what do you expect to happen?"

"Well, I'd say staying alive would be the most important thing…" Amelia replied. Her response earned her another smirk.

"And you just expect me to let you be free to roam Asgard or Earth, just like that? Give you the opportunity to go running to the first person you can find to spill all my secrets? I hardly see how I come out on top with that. Or would you be vowing your servitude to me 'til death do us part?" he mocked.

"Well, considering you live far longer than I do, I hardly think that's fair…" she replied.

Loki laughed again. "You're fun. But you see the predicament."

Amelia thought for a moment, and finally an idea came to her. "I don't want to go back to Earth, and I know you won't let me stay here. But I'm sure there's somewhere else you can send me, some other world where I can find my own way. When I'm done helping you, you could send me away someplace else."

Loki continued to play with her lock of hair, staring into her eyes in a deeply unsettling way, as if he could read through her. Could he tell that she had no intention of being with him long enough to "earn" her freedom? She had only hoped that she sounded desperate enough to convince him to spare her life… for the time being.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, the corner of his mouth curled up. "I accept. You will work for me, and in return you will keep your life." Loki shimmered. Amelia gulped, but brought no attention to the fact that she caught his lie.

"However," he held up his hand, showing a simple woven black necklace with a green pendant. "There are conditions."

She stared at the item warily. Where did that even come from? She was sure his hand was empty a moment ago. "What is that?"

"A gift." He mocked.

"You mean a leash." She replied.

"Really it's more like a collar. I'm sure you're aware of how advanced Asgard's technology is. In fact, by your standards, it could even be called magic. You will wear this at all times. If you speak to anyone, it will kill you. If you try to remove it, it will kill you. Consider this my… insurance." This time, he didn't blur. Amelia swallowed the fear that had once again lodged itself into her throat.

He began to put the choker around her neck, but she pulled away instinctively. "How am I supposed to speak to you when I need to?"

"It will deactivate when you are in my presence."

He began to move the choker towards her neck again, but she held up her hands. "Wait, wait… I need to know how it works. Does it detect my vocal chords? What if I cough? Or sneeze? What if I stub my toe and-"

"It detects _language_ from _your_ voice. I'm not a fool." He replied. Then he added, "I hope you don't talk in your sleep…"

She swallowed and lowered her hands. His long fingers brought the choker to her throat and attached it behind her neck. Amelia's skin crawled feeling Loki's fingers under her hair and on her skin, goosebumps forming up and down her arms.

"Oh, might I also add that if you activate this device it won't just kill you… it will kill whoever you're near in a ten-foot radius. Any questions?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide.

He gave her his most charming smile. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

Oh, she understood him, alright. He had no intention of releasing her when he was done with her. She had to figure out how to escape him before she helped him complete whatever he was planning. But how could she do that when he strapped a bomb around her neck?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

" _All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive." ― Yann Martel, Life of Pi_

Once Loki was convinced he had Amelia in the palm of his hand, he wasted no time in setting his affairs in order. After he returned her inconspicuously outside the castle walls near her quarters, he worked swiftly to have her assigned as his personal hand maid. People rarely questioned Odin when he made changes, and within no time Amelia replaced the snobbish youth that was serving him prior. Her quarters were moved close to his, which would work to their advantage in allowing them to interact in secret without drawing suspicion. Her quarters were attached to his own through a servant's corridor that was also intended as an escape route if the king's life were ever threatened.

She was required to begin her work as his servant immediately, which he knew would annoy her and amuse him. She was completely under his thumb in every possible way, which was exactly how he liked it. Then there was the added benefit of being able to be himself in her presence. She had made the point when she had pleaded her case during their initial engagement, and she was more correct than she realized. He always had to maintain his illusion of Odin even in the privacy of his study due to the original servant not being privy to his big secret. Add in the pitiful looks that the servant had kept giving the newly widowed king, and it nearly drove Loki to insanity. He wanted no reminders of his grief for his mother, and he hated wearing Odin's face to bed. It was exhausting.

Now he could stretch his legs a bit more, with the added benefit of having someone to annoy. Without Thor around to keep him entertained and only stuffy Asgardians to deal with, Loki sometimes found himself a bit… bored. He had to keep his mischief in check… mostly. He did grant himself the occasional tipping of a serving tray or illusion of a rat running across a servant's feet, but it was in small doses, and hardly satisfying. Fortunately, his new servant should arrive any minute. Then the real fun could begin.

* * *

Amelia entered Loki's quarters to begin her daily chores, much to her chagrin. It was day one, and she was already beginning to wonder if the slavery and humiliation was worth staying alive. Being permanently staffed as his personal hand maid sent whispers through the castle. The fact that he selected someone as new as her without any proper education, not to mention the fact that she was mute was enough to start spreading hot rumors through the keep. Others eyed her at the mess hall, and every now and then she would catch bits and pieces of wild theories. Perhaps the king was attending to some highly classified but very important business that required him to have someone who would be unable to tell secrets. Or, she was secretly a spy who was doing secret missions and reporting to him on a daily basis in the privacy of his rooms. The most disturbing one she had heard so far was the theory that he had taken her into his bed, to ease the aching loss of his late queen, or the equally ridiculous theory that she had somehow "enchanted" him to gain access to highly confidential information and was a threat to Asgard. The rumors became more ridiculous the more people talked. It infuriated her. She couldn't even defend herself even if she wanted to. Her hand instinctively went to the choker around her neck. It's very presence on her skin made her feel like she was suffocating. She hated it. She couldn't rid herself of it fast enough. When all was said and done, she wouldn't be able to stay on Asgard anyway, her reputation plenty tarnished enough to keep her from ever achieving anything of importance here.

When she arrived, he was sitting serenely at his desk, going over a book, the light from its pages illuminating his false face, adding a prism effect to the already shifting sight before her. She looked away from him immediately, once again wishing she could just turn _off_ her stupid ability so she could function for once.

She was expecting another one of his grins (from what she could see, at least) and snide remarks, but she didn't receive any. In fact, he scarcely looked up when she entered, and continued about his work with all the arrogance and aloofness that only royalty could possess. She was certainly fine with that. The less she had to interact with him the better. She shot him an icy glare, her only weapon at the moment, and set to work.

She went from room to room, to scope out the spaces and determine her workload. It was monumental. There was a study, a library, multiple lounge rooms, a room that held nothing but artifacts (she assumed they were family heirlooms, as rare as they were priceless and thus not meant for public eyes). There was even an arboretum, with a skylight casting sunbeams down from high above to illuminate the strange multitude of Asgardian flora. It wasn't a large space, so it was most likely the hobby of some royal family member; perhaps the late queen. Amelia left the room and continued to explore, her cleaning materials left forgotten some three rooms back. A couple of the doors she tried were locked, and so she had to change directions, retracing her steps. She eventually found herself in a room that seemed to be used for the most private and secret of meetings. There were no windows in this room. In the very center of the room stood an interactive holographic centerpiece of the great Tree of Life, Yddrasil, its winding, starlit branches twisting and arching over the entire expanse of the ceiling. The Tree came out of a round table, only big enough for roughly five to six people. Great scrolls lined the walls in slots from floor to ceiling. Some were on display, showing ancient maps of unfamiliar territories, their writings completely unreadable. It was stunning in its entirety and entirely overwhelming for Amelia. Each room seemed to be a variation off the one prior, containing varying ratios of lounges, couches, books, shelves, tables, desks, art pieces... and she realized, each major space had its own attached washroom. Finally, at the end of it all, Amelia slumped down into a nearby chair. Why any one person, or _two_ people even, needed so much space was beyond her. It would be impossible to clean all of the rooms daily, so she would need to establish a schedule for herself, and prioritize the more frequently used rooms over the others. As she followed her way back through the maze of rooms to where Loki still sat, she realized that the rooms that seemed to have the most use was the private library, the master bedroom including its attached bathroom suite, and the study which sat between the two rooms and provided the only entry into the king's private domain. That was the space Loki was currently occupying, his nose still buried in his book. She shot him another suspicious glare and then began to go about her chores.

Surprisingly, he left her in peace for the majority of the day, which gave Amelia time to ponder the dark clad man. She couldn't deny that he had a certain appeal. He was witty and intelligent, and she was pretty sure he could be charming if he needed to be. But he was also arrogant and volatile and she desperately wanted to knock him from his high horse. She hated him. He was responsible for so much pain… she felt it deep in her core and when she focused on it, her stomach felt hollow and her heart burned.

What made a person so… bad? She had heard others speak of him on occasion as she sat or worked next to them, but she only ever got bits and pieces of his story. Even then half of what she heard were lies or tall tales. She knew he was once a part of Odin's house. She knew he was adopted, and later exiled due to his violent actions to usurp his brother and was responsible for chaos unfolding in what others called the nine realms. But there were still so many questions she had about him.

She had to understand him better, to understand his motivations, reasons, desires. If she was to find a way to escape his clutches, then she had to know her enemy. He was a man, after all… an immortal one (or at least by her own lifespan he might as well be), but a man none the less. The realization sent an odd mental picture of Loki being normal. Getting ready for bed, brushing his hair, cleaning his teeth… It almost made her laugh. The great evil villain flosses and wears pajamas.

She sighed to herself and stared out the window of the bedroom, then realized that the sun was setting and she had yet to eat anything for the day. Skipping her meals was making her foggy-brained and daydreamy. She slapped her cheeks a few times to loosen herself up a bit and rubbed at her eyes. Her tasks were almost done and then she'd be free.

"Is the position already getting to be too much for you?" His taunting voice said behind her.

She nearly jumped out of her skin and spun around to face the object of her thoughts. He was still wearing Odin's disguise, yet his mannerisms were his own leading to an incredibly bizarre visual combination.

"What? Does my appearance make you uncomfortable?" he teased. He let his illusion fall away and he was once again himself. "There. Is that better? I know this face must be much more handsome than Odin's."

"How do you do that?" she asked quizzically, unable to curb her curiosity.

"Speaking already?" Loki commented. "You are brave and very trusting. You weren't at all worried about your necklace being activated?"

"I highly doubt you would have me explode with you in such close proximity." Amelia continued to replace the old sheets with clean ones. "If you want something of me, then just come out with it. I have a lot to do."

He _tsk_ ed at her. "It's always business with you. Very well then. Let us discuss the reason why I have so graciously decided to let you be alive. I have a task for you."

"What is it?" she replied.

"There is something that I'm looking for and I need you to get close to a certain group of people who may know where it is." He sat on his unfinished bed, putting an abrupt stop to her administrations.

"This sounds like less like a simple task and more like an undercover mission." She ignored his obvious intent to annoy her, and worked on changing out his pillow cases.

"It will take some time." He confirmed.

"What is it that I'm looking for?" she replied.

"Don't worry about that right now. First, we need to get you to infiltrate my brother's idolizing group of friends. Sif is going to train you to be a warrior. It will allow you to get close to her and the others. Since you're mute, there is a great chance that they will say something in your presence that they normally wouldn't. They are very close to Thor and his father and were entrusted with very serious information. You will gain their trust, and you will report _everything_ you hear to me."

Amelia had heard of Sif – the famed first female warrior in Asgard. She had seen her train out in the courtyard multiple times. She was beautiful, strong, and smart. Amelia was already nervous. When she had imagined spying for Loki, it had been doing things she knew how to do… polishing relics and being invisible. She had no idea how to fight, and more importantly she was fragile. Mortally, pitifully, humanly fragile. Even bumping shoulders with an Asgardian left her feeling bruised. The differences in durability and strength were staggering.

"How do you expect to get Sif to train me? I certainly can't walk up to her and ask."

Loki smirked. "That's what I'm for." He flaunted his glamour briefly to make his point.

She mulled over this new development. While she was worried about the logistics of it, she had to admit… this wasn't the worst possible thing he could be having her do. He wasn't having her deliver poison to someone on his behalf or something equally dreadful. Plus, it would require her to spend more time away from being his maid, and put her in the presence of more desirable company. If she was going to find a way to escape him, she would need help, and who better to go to than Thor's friends?

"When do I start?" she asked.

"Not just yet. There are a couple of things we need to address first." he replied.

"Such as?"

"Your strength pales compared to even the weakest Asgardian. If you're to pass as an Asgardian while learning to fight, then we must make you stronger and more resilient."

"I figured you would have a plan for this…" she said dryly.

Loki smiled knowingly at her. "I have methods of making your body strong. At least strong enough to survive training for a while. You will begin taking an elixir to help build your strength. It must be taken daily, without fail." he ordered. "Still, simply taking the concoction won't be enough."

"What do you mean?" she asked, as a deep pit opened up in her stomach.

"You will need more than just strength to be convincing. There's the other matter of making sure you keep your silence. I'd hate for our arrangement to end prematurely due to an error on your part…. Especially if that error takes away my only chance at gaining the information I need."

"I have a bomb strapped to my throat. Trust me, I won't be speaking."

Loki eyed her. "You were committed to your silence before, until I began to torture you for answers. Surely you must have known that speaking would ensure your death, yet you chose to do it anyway."

"Well, actually I'm still here, so I think it worked out in my favor."

"Which just means you were lucky. Your bargaining skills won't help you this time if things get tough." Loki eyed her choker. "Training to be a warrior is a brutal affair, with many injuries. Warriors often get broken arms, broken legs, torn ligaments, cuts, tears… our weapons are highly sophisticated, even those used for training."

Amelia swallowed at the thought of it. Could she keep her silence if her arm snapped in half from a blow she couldn't dodge? Perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew. This wasn't what she had in mind when she thought of helping him.

Loki continued. "I merely shoved you around a bit and gave you a minor cut. If you couldn't handle my attacks in silence, then what makes you think you'll be able to do the same with Sif? You need to be able to handle pain without uttering a word. Cries of pain are acceptable, even for a self-induced mute. They'll expect that much. But there is no pleading, no begging, no cursing."

"Why don't I like where this is going?" she said.

"Because you shouldn't." he said with a small smile. "I'm going to teach you to tolerate pain. If you can control your fear, then you will be less likely to go boom."

"So… you're going to torture me? On a regular basis? Lovely." She said sarcastically, as she tried to hide her sweating palms.

"Consider it one-sided sparring." Loki offered, with a playful glint in his green eyes.

Amelia rolled her eyes at him, but didn't deign to answer. Instead, she stared blankly at the floor, her head swimming with questions and uncertainty. Finally, she whispered, "What are we doing this for? What am I helping you do?"

The mischief in Loki's eyes disappeared immediately, and the air in the room seemed to drop two degrees. Amelia immediately regretted her questioning. "Worrying already, are we?" he commented as he stood up off the bed, and began to close the short gap between them. He stopped just barely an inch from her, her nose practically touching the supple leather covering his chest, and placed his hand against the wall, trapping her. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to know?" he whispered.

"Are you going to kill people?" she whispered, even though she knew the answer.

A soft, dark smile turned the corners of his mouth. He knew she knew the answer as well. But still, he gave it to her. "Probably."

Silence fell in like a heavy cloak around them, and Amelia felt like she was suffocating.

"Will you attack Earth?" she asked.

Loki stared at her for a moment then dropped his hand from the wall, his posture easing casually. "I have no interest in your inferior planet. I'm right where I want to be. I am merely ensuring that it stays that way."

Amelia's body let out a subconscious sigh of relief, and Loki began to chuckle at her. She gave him a quizzical look. "What's so funny?"

"The subtle shifts in your morality. Your touching concern for having a hand in ending lives seemed to dissipate when you learned it wasn't going to affect your precious planet. I can tell that you hate me, Amelia. I know what kind of a person you think I am. But I think when all this is through, you'll be surprised to find out just what kind of person you are."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience readers and for your lovely comments! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far. I've gone through and actually rewritten the first 3 chapters; I wasn't very comfortable with them, but now I think it's more in tune with what I am planning. Here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 4

" _There are two kinds of secrets. The ones we keep from others and the ones we keep from ourselves."  
― Frank Warren_

Amelia sat on a luxurious loveseat carved out of golden wood and deep red fabric with intricate designs. She was cradling her wrist to her chest as she focused on taking even breaths and pushing the pain to the back of her mind. Loki had wasted no time in beginning her training, eager for her infiltration to begin as soon as possible. She knew right away that this "training" was going to be a challenge for her. Fear was a powerful instinctual thing, and her drive to avoid pain at all costs always took priority over her own logic. Loki was right – she was surely going to get herself killed, necklace or no. Her typical response to pain was either a colorful string of curse words or pleading. What came out of her mouth depended on the level of pain she was experiencing. Still, he insisted that he was going easy on her, barely using any of his strength and skill to leave bruises and aches, and she knew he was telling the truth.

It was a small mercy, and she knew she had to learn to tolerate it. If she cried out at every hit or twist of her arm, then she wouldn't make it through day one of warrior boot camp. She had seen how the Asgardians fought, their blows with their weapons echoing off the stone walls surrounding the training grounds. She had watched grown men flipped onto the hard-packed earth, heard the thud of a dulled blade hitting leather training armor with enough force to bruise ribs. She'd seen arms being broken from unrelenting assaults on shield arms, and legs being swept out from under men with far more experience than her.

Still, she didn't like it. There was a reason she never took self-defense classes, and always avoided school yard fights.

Instead of complaining however, she sat silently shooting angry daggers at Loki while he produced a gold cup out of thin air with a wave of his hand. She tried to not look impressed. His tricks were mesmerizing, and he knew it. Well, he could try to impress her all he wanted, she wasn't going to be fooled by his charms.

"Drink this." He ordered. "It will heal you quickly."

"Do you have anything to eat in your hammer space?" she asked, as she sipped at the concoction. She grimaced, but didn't say anything. She downed the rest of it so the taste wouldn't linger in her mouth. "You've made me skip dinner for this."

"My what?"

"Hammer space. It's where cartoon characters hide random stuff and whip it out when the need it. Like Bugs Bunny with a saw. Or Wiley E. Coyote with a giant mallet..." Loki just stared at her like she was a complete imbecile. Amelia shook her head, her cheeks flushing hot with embarrassment. "Nevermind… I guess I'll just eat my words instead…"

He chuckled at her joke, and then stood. "Stay here and don't make a sound."

He donned his Odin illusion and went into the study where the main entrance to his quarters was located. She could hear him open one of the wide doors and speak to the guards outside his door.

Less than five minutes later there was a knock at the door and Amelia, who was still frozen in her seat, heard the rolling of a food cart. More words were exchanged, and the deliverer left. Loki returned to the doorway of the bedroom and extended his arm towards the study in invitation. Amelia got up tentatively and followed him, where a great steaming plate of food was presented. The smell hit her the second she crossed the threshold into the study, and her mouth immediately watered. It was, of course, a feast fit for a king. Breads, cheeses, pheasant (or something like it), some sort of vegetable dish, and a glass of red wine with the decanter in case the king decided one glass wasn't enough.

She sat herself down and immediately began inhaling the food. It wasn't until she was halfway through her meal that she realized that her wrist had stopped hurting. In fact, many of the wounds Loki had inflicted during their first session were already healed. She flexed her hand repeatedly staring at it. She was sure it was a sprain, but now it felt as normal as ever.

"Wow…" she muttered. Loki sat and watched her silently. Amelia decided to try the wine, hoping it would ease her nerves that always seemed to be on fire under his gaze.

"So…" she cleared her throat. "How often will I be doing this… endurance training?"

"Every evening after you dine in the mess hall unless my plans say otherwise."

Amelia choked on her wine, almost spraying all over Loki. She coughed repeatedly, and he stared at her amused until she got a hold of herself. "Every night? Are you serious?" she said, flabbergasted. "How do you expect me to do my job if I'm going to be sore and tired all the time?"

"Do mortals always whine this much?"

"Do you insult everyone this much?"

"Yes."

Amelia scowled at him, her blue eyes narrowed.

"Come now… would you really rather return to meaningless chores?" He leaned forward. "Admit it. You may hate me, but this is exciting for you. Getting stronger, going under cover… why did you really come to Asgard?"

Amelia stared into her wine glass, her reflection looking back at her in its rich red liquid. He was right. She hadn't come with the intention to waste away her life. He was providing her with an opportunity, but that didn't come without risk. This plan of his would most likely take time to pay off for him. Yes, she wanted to escape him, but she might as well make the most of it by gaining some much needed survival skills, especially if she was ever going to make it out of Asgard and into the great universe above.

Amelia didn't want to admit he was right, though. Especially to his face. She was still coping with the fact that she was working with him. His words from earlier regarding her flexible morals were still eating away at her, and she had no way to reconcile it.

She swallowed the last of her wine, and stood up stiffly from her seat, a sad effort to hold onto some of her dignity. "I should return to my quarters. It seems that I will need my rest." She replied, and left.

Loki was pleased to see Amelia take to her training rather quickly after their discussion. The sooner he could get her under Sif's wing, the sooner he could find the location of the tesseract. Once the tesseract was located, he could retrieve the aether from the Collector and then he would have proper leverage to barter with Thanos.

By the next evening Amelia had traded her silk servant's robes for simple black pants and a shirt, and kept her hair back in a braid. When she arrived for her next session with him, she looked less like a timid girl and more like a woman. Loki eyed her when she wasn't looking, and pondered how the softness of her body might change under Sif's tutelage. Will she keep her curves, or will she give them up for lean muscle? Either way, he couldn't deny that she would turn heads.

Loki was exacting in the amount and type of pain he inflicted on Amelia. He ensured that he never harmed her more than her potion could heal her; frequent visits to the healing room would cause suspicion, as well as the amount of healing stones that would go missing from the castle's inventory. That didn't exactly leave Loki without options, however. His imagination was rife with ways to hurt someone, and his time in exile only added to that.

Days turned into weeks, and Loki began to notice the effects of the potion on Amelia. The concoction didn't just heal her and give her greater resilience to physical injury, but it also made her faster and stronger.

The potion was an ancient one that Loki had found years ago when he was studying under his mother's tutelage, filed away deep into their medicinal history. It was a remnant of Odin's younger years when he had once ruled over Earth, and was used to make many of the great heroes in Norse Legend. However, human bodies weren't meant for greatness, and eventually the potion could cause the user to deteriorate over time.

Of course, Loki opted to not share this information with Amelia. He had made an agreement to keep her alive as long as she worked under him, and she'd probably see it as a breach of their contract. He had no intention of letting the potion kill her, but there was no telling how long it will take to uncover the location of the tesseract. He only hoped her body could handle the changes long enough to get him the information he needed.

Amelia wondered how much longer she would have to put up with Loki before she could start training with Sif. She knew her endurance was building. She lost track of the cuts, bruises, and sprains she'd received, but she always re-healed afterwards thanks to the potion, and then she'd come back to do it again the next day. What was once excruciating for her was now considered tolerable. Of course, this only caused Loki to increase the force behind his attacks. Still, the damage was never permanent, and it served its purpose. He never became malicious with her. If anything, his verbal teasing affected her more than his fists did, his words constantly mocking her and calling her goodness into question. He seemed to enjoy doing it just to cause chaos, but a part of her wondered if he was also motivated by certain sort of… loneliness, a desire to find a kindred spirit to perhaps ease his own guilty, violent conscience.

Her day time chores also became easier, mainly because Loki was often out playing the role of Odin. He spent countless hours occupying the throne, observing the warriors train in the courtyards, and heading council meetings over various political issues, leaving her to her own devices when it came to keeping the king's suite clean. She had wanted to sing to herself to help pass the time, but she recalled Loki's rules for her choker, so instead opted to hum songs to herself instead.

It didn't take long for loneliness to set in for her. She had been given new quarters when she began her position as the King's handmaid, which was more spacious and luxurious in its furniture than the room she had been sharing with Eowyn. However, it now meant that she scarcely ever saw anyone else _but_ Loki. She occasionally crossed paths with other servants while going to and from the supply rooms, laundry facilities, and the king's rooms. The only time she did get to be around others was during the meal times in the mess hall, but even that was isolating for her. In the beginning, Eowyn had tried to get answers out of her regarding her new elevated position, but Amelia's silence was damaging, and Eowyn's face became more and more colored in jealousy. She had, after all, given Amelia her opportunity here at the keep, and had been a loyal employee far longer than she had. If anyone would have been qualified to replace the king's servant, it would have been her. Amelia owed her a debt that she couldn't repay, leaving Eowyn feeling betrayed.

Amelia felt like she was ready to fall apart.

Loki sat in a great gilded chair, his disguise in place, as he listened to old men bicker. He clenched his jaw to keep himself sane and resisted the temptation to rub at his throbbing temples.

There were five council members surrounding him, each representing a separate branch of Asgard. The treasury, the military, business, public relations, and interstellar relations.

Alvrig, the leader of the military branch and Odin's highest in command apart from Thor, sat forward in his seat, keen grey eyes framed in age lines. "My king, my sources state that rumors are growing in the outer regions of space of a great power growing."

"And what am I to do with rumors, Alvrig?" Loki replied, adding a bit of weariness to his voice. "Rumors are but leaves on the wind. Chaotic and without purpose."

Ambassador Colborn, a lean man with a curling beard and responsible for handling interstellar relations, spoke up. "Alvrig is not alone in this, my king. I, too, have been receiving reports of rumors from Vanaheim, Alfheim, and Nidavellir."

"What are these rumors then?" Loki inquired.

The two men glanced at each other, and then back at Loki. "They are saying that Thanos is regaining his power, and has begun to search for the Infinity Stones."

"Thanos…" Loki rolled the familiar name over his tongue. "I suspected as much."

"Aye, my king. These aren't just from unreliable sources either. Nova Prime from Xandar has reach out to us as well, informing us of an attack on Xandar led by Ronan the Accuser. He almost decimated Xandar with a powerful orb, but was destroyed before he could succeed." Colborn stated.

Loki's ears perked in interest. A powerful orb… no doubt another infinity stone. "What has happened to the orb then?"

"Nova Prime assures us that it is securely in Xandar's possession."

Loki nodded. "Good."

"Which brings us to our next point, my king…" Alvrig leaned forward in his seat. "Where is the tesseract located?"

Loki knew this question was coming, and unfortunately it was unavoidable.

"The location of the tesseract is secure." Loki replied.

"My apologies my king, but we find that hard to believe when the item is not in the vault."

"Are you questioning your king?" Loki said icily, and then quickly regained his composure. "The tesseract is incredibly powerful and dangerous. It must be kept in secrecy. When Thanos comes… and he will come… that will be the first place he will look. We must ensure he does not find it."

Alvrig nodded in understanding. "Aye, my king. We understand you hid the tesseract when you had learned of Loki's escape, and kept it secret to prevent him from discovering its location. However, Loki is dead now, so surely secrecy from your trusted council is no longer needed? If you would but tell us the location…"

"I understand your concern, Alvrig, but I consider the matter closed. The less people who know of its whereabouts the safer Asgard will be."

Colborn now spoke. "Aye, my king. But if I may offer one last plea... is it wise to withhold this information?"

Loki looked him straight in the eye. "Come forth with your words."

Colborn, glanced nervously at the other council members, who averted their eyes. "We are aware that your health is failing you, my king. If you should pass before Thor takes the throne... the secret will be lost."

A thick silence fell across the room. Calling out a warrior on his increasing frailty is greatly frowned upon in Asgard. To do so to the king would be, well…

Loki remained silent for a moment, and stared at Colborn with what would be Odin's one good eye. The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair, until words came spilling out of his mouth. "My apologies, my king. It was not my place."

"Indeed." Loki replied. He stood slowly and began to pace the room. "However, you are my most trusted advisors and my friends. We have known each other for thousands of years, fought beside each other as brothers. You would not say such a thing unless the circumstances called for it. Aye, it's true, I'm not the young lad I once was. However, while my body might be weakening, my mind is not. I have measures in place to ensure the infinity stone is not lost should my fire dwindle before Thanos arrives.

"Let this be the end of this. My father lived to be much older than I am now, and his father before him. Do not worry yourself needlessly. As for Thor, he will take the throne in his own time. There is nothing to be gained in forcing the crown upon someone when they are not ready."

"Aye," laughed a new voice. Loki turned to face Einar, a robust man in fine robes with an intricate golden necklace symbolizing his position as the head of the treasury. "Loki was a perfect example of that…"

Einar, for all of his financial wisdom, was well-known for his inappropriate and ill-timed remarks. That was why he was better off in an office counting numbers than he was with politics. Why Odin had ever given him such a high position to begin with was beyond Loki.

Loki set his mouth into a thin line. "Aye, Loki was ill-suited. He committed treason and brought shame upon himself. However, do not forget that had it not been for his sacrifice, my son would have been lost and so would this universe. He died with honor and has been absolved of his crimes post-mortem."

Einar's cheeks turned red through his dark beard. "Aye, my king. Forgive me."

Loki nodded. "Continue gathering intel on Thanos' movements and whereabouts. This meeting is adjourned. If there is any information regarding more infinity stones, then contact me immediately."

All of the men stood and bowed with their fists over their chests, then left the room, leaving Loki by himself. He stood perfectly still for a long moment, staring out at the city below him. He was king. He had rebuilt this broken city and rekindled her spirit without gratitude, appreciation or respect in exchange for his service. Even his untimely death and protection of Asgard's golden prince had done little for his reputation. He was the villain. He would always be the villain, while Thor would always be forgiven. They continue to judge him, all of them. The council, those who used to be his friends, his family... They so willingly dealt out their verdict – guilty, with no parole and no forgiveness, and yet they were unwilling to explore why, to understand the necessity of his choices. As if he were the only one to ever have blood on his hands, to use violence as tool for change. The hypocrisy of it all. A dark rage burned in him at the futility of his good deeds.

On top of all that, the council was now asking questions and Thanos was setting up his chess board. Things were set in motion, and he was woefully unprepared.

Loki spun on his heel and left the empty room. He had to take extra care in bottling his rage as he walked through the halls on the way to his study, lest his magic burst out of him, bringing the arched roof upon his head.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

" _The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame." ― Edgar Allan Poe, The Black Cat_

Amelia was in the middle of cleaning an ivory sink in one of the three bathrooms when the door slammed open. She jumped with a start, and spun around to see Loki.

He looked furious.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes were fire, his jaw clenched. His hand clutched the trident staff so hard his knuckles were white, skin stretched tight across the bone.

"You're done for today." Loki said, his voice was strangely calm. But Amelia knew better. "We're training early."

Amelia put down her cleaning supplies and dried her hands on her robes.

"Perhaps I should change before we start…" She offered.

"We'll start now." There was no room for argument.

Amelia kept her head level and looked him right in the eye as she walked by him to take her stance in the open floor of the bedroom. He was _pissed_ about something, that much was obvious, and he clearly needed to blow off some steam. She knew she was in for a rough day, but a part of her was curious. She always knew Loki held back on her to a certain extent, which made it hard for her to gauge how well she would hold up against an Asgardian who didn't know of her human limitations.

She stood ready, her feet spread out, knees slightly bent, arms poised. Her entire body was ready to dodge at the first sign of movement.

It made no difference. Loki was quick and _strong_. Stronger than he'd ever been before. One moment she was ready for him, the next she was on the floor, the back of her head pounding where her skull hit stone.

She gritted her teeth, but kept her words silent. She pushed herself up again and waited for his next attack. He held his trident in his hand, its base ringing on the floor each time he set it down. Amelia didn't know how to attack just yet… he wasn't teaching her that. So, she waited as they paced in a circle. He swiped at her with the trident, but miraculously she ducked just in time. She watched him in front of her, but suddenly he vanished and a sharp slice of pain spread across her back as the trident cut through her robes. She fell to her knees with a cry.

* * *

Anger coarsed through his veins, burning hot, making his ears ring. "Get up." He demanded. He grabbed a nearby sword off the wall and tossed it at her feet. "Fight me."

This is what she wanted, right? An opportunity to hurt him, to exact her judgment. Let her try.

* * *

Amelia stared at the sword at her feet, bewildered. She didn't know the first thing about sword fighting, let alone fighting of any kind. He knew that. She wanted to argue, to fight back and tell him where he can shove that sword of his. She looked up at his eyes, and froze at what she saw. There was more than just rage behind that cold glare… it was something more vulnerable. Hurt.

He was baiting her. He wanted a fight. A _real_ fight.

She refused to give him one. She was going to keep her cool.

She kept her silence and pushed herself up off the ground, as the cold air made her wound sting. Trickles of blood tickled down her skin, soaking into her robe, making the fabric stick to her back. She ignored the sword at her feet, which only seemed to infuriate him more.

"Coward." He spat. She flinched at his tone, but refused to give in to his prodding. Instead, she kept herself on the balls of her feet, and put her back close to the wall so he couldn't get behind her. She was wedged between the fireplace and the dresser, with no way to sidestep out of his attacks without going through him first, but at least it limited the direction he could attack her from.

He paced in front of her momentarily, the anger in his eyes waning slightly. Was that respect she saw in those murky depths?

And just like that, the moment was gone.

He came at her again, his staff spinning and jabbing, landing blow after blow. There was no possible way for her to block them all. She couldn't take her eyes off him long enough to do anything but anticipate his next blow. She ducked and dodged against the wall, the trident striking the stone next to her head with each attempt. Her hands groped around for anything close to her that she could use to deflect his weapon. She grabbed a book off the dresser to her left and used it at a shield, once, twice. On the third hit the spikes of the trident stabbed clear through the pages. Loki yanked the trident, taking the skewered book out of her hands, and with a great swipe of his staff the book flew off and away from them. Another hit clipped her on her shoulder as her hand wrapped around the fireplace poker. She brought up the iron weapon just in time to block Loki's trident from skewering her right then and there, their weapons locked and scraping. Her eyes widened in shock. Just how far was he going to take this? He needed her!

* * *

' _Curse them!'_ Loki thought, his rage consuming him. _'Curse them all! This is what they see, isn't it? A monster? I had saved the Universe, and it still wasn't enough. Even in my death, they mock me and scorn me. Curse them to the deepest hells!'_

He wasn't seeing Amelia anymore, he was seeing Odin's face as he rejected him, spurning Loki's sacrifice that he was willing to make to protect his family and his home. He was seeing his friends – no, not his friends. _Thor's_ friends, staring up at him in judgment and suspicion, as if he had _planned_ his brother's exile, and cursing him for not undoing his ailing father's wishes. As if they did not know him, as if they had not fought together, grown together... he _saved_ them!

 _Monster. Villain._

He saw The Others, their cold, clammy hands on his skin, their power burning him, coursing through his veins like fire, like poison, and he screamed and screamed….

He remembered the Hell he had found himself in.

Monsters. They didn't know the first thing about _real_ monsters…

* * *

Amelia's arms couldn't hold him back, the weapon in his hands inched closer to her face. She wasn't strong enough, she realized. Loki swiped up with the trident, causing her iron rod to wrench out of her hands and go flying into the air, landing with a clatter out of reach. Finally, the base of the staff landed a decisive blow to her gut, knocking the air out of her as she doubled over in pain.

She peeked through her crossed and battered arms and saw his face. He towered over her like a god exacting punishment, emanating a righteous fury. That's when she realized… he _wasn't_ going to stop.

Desperation and anger ran through every fiber of her being, until she burst. He'd gone too far.

"ENOUGH!" she yelled, before he could land the next blow. She pushed herself off the wall with all the strength in her legs and collided in him with a force that even surprised her. The impact sent both of them flying and skidding along the floor, until they finally stopped in a tangle of limbs. Loki's trident had skidded out of his hands in the scuffle, and he lay there, stunned. Amelia, pumped with rage and animalistic instinct enough to rival his, went to raise her fist to punch him, but something was wrong. She realized, with confusion, she couldn't. Her arm wasn't working the way it was supposed to.

The pause in her fury was enough to halt her rush of adrenaline, and a moment later a great stab of pain erupted in her arm and shoulder. Amelia gritted her teeth as unstoppable tears began to well in her eyes. She couldn't move her arm and as she felt her shoulder, she could tell something was terribly wrong. Her lungs froze, unable to take in air, and panic began to fill her. Amelia rolled off Loki and scooted against the wall with her knees drawn up to her chest.

Loki bridged the gap between them in an instant, his eyes bright with an emotion she couldn't name. Shock? Regret? She couldn't be sure. There was no smugness behind those green eyes, no anger… All she knew was that she'd never seen that look in his eyes before. He reached out to touch her, but she shied away from him and furiously lashed out with her free hand, smacking him across the face.

She had thought her action would bring his anger back down upon her, but it didn't. Instead, his his eyes became unreadable and his jaw muscles tightened beneath his skin. She had no words, her lungs empty. Through blurry tears she saw his mouthing moving, talking to her, but all she had was the ringing of pain in her ears.

Finally, sound. His voice, deep, soothing. Calm.

"Breathe. Take a deep breath."

Another moment passed and finally air filled her lungs as her arm and shoulder hurt furiously, a tingling sensation making its way down her arm.

"Another." He ordered.

She did. Finally, after a painful minute, she found her voice. She spat her words at him as if they were venom.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she demanded.

Loki didn't offer her a response. She knew that he was arrogant, so apologies weren't a part of his vocabulary. But he didn't even try to defend himself. He didn't even look her in the eyes. Instead, he was eyeing her injury, which was hidden under her clothing. He began to raise his hands to it, but she batted them away with her good hand.

"Don't touch me!"

Amelia stood up, cradling her arm, and walked over to the edge of his bed, putting distance between the two of them. Loki stayed where he was, pensive. For the first time, it seemed like he didn't know what to do.

It made Amelia uneasy seeing him so uncertain, and angry at the same time, because for some wild reason she felt _bad_ for him. It was the first time he displayed any hint of a conscience, some sign of vulnerability. She furrowed her brow as she watched him, her pained breaths hissing through her clenched teeth.

' _No.'_ she thought, clamping down on her emotions. _'He's not getting any of_ _ **my**_ _sympathy. He can't play the victim with me on this one.'_

Finally, Loki stood and looked at Amelia, his eyes unreadable. "You dislocated your shoulder." He stated it as if he were commenting on the weather. Just like that, he was back to his usual self, all signs of the crazed man gone. "We need to heal it."

" _I_ dislocated it?" she replied pointedly. She wished she had something nearby besides fluffy pillows to throw at him.

"You ran your body into mine at full force."

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?" she shouted accusingly. "I wouldn't have had to do that if you weren't trying to _kill_ me!"

"If I were trying to kill you, you would be dead." Loki replied.

"Oh, shut up. How do we set it back?" She got the terrible mental picture of having to forcefully slam her shoulder into a wall, like she'd seen in the movies. The thought of it made her nauseous. "Shouldn't I go to the healing room?"

"No. I will have to set it for you, if you'll let me. I can't have you go to the healing room; it will look suspicious. It's late. What excuse would you give for this?"

"I fell out of bed?" she offered up.

"Asgardians don't hurt themselves when they fall out of bed." Loki said with a small grin and a raised eyebrow. Despite her anger at him, his smile somehow began to lift the heaviness in the air.

"It was a really tall bed." She replied.

"I don't know how you lasted here this long."

He closed the distance between them and knelt in front of her. He raised his hands again, but this time looked Amelia in the eyes and waited, as if waiting for her consent. She finally gave him a silent nod.

First, they had to remove the robes from her shoulder and her arm to assess the damage. Under different circumstances she would have been grateful that she was wearing a slip underneath. But pain had a weird way of blocking out everything else, including modesty. Once it was loose enough, Loki was able to expose her shoulder and see the extent of the damage. The skin was swollen and starting to bruise. He told her to move her hair out of the way, so she did, twisting it and letting it fall over the opposite shoulder. He placed one hand on her bicep and the other over her tender shoulder. His touch was gentle and his fingers felt cool on her skin, but her remaining anger kept her from easing into his touch. Loki noticed.

"Relax." He ordered.

She shot him another glare.

He stared back at her, waiting, jade eyes patient, neutral. She sighed. It was no use fighting him now. She took a few deep, calming breaths.

Once her muscles were relaxed enough, the hand over her injury began to glow a warm red. Amelia watched, mesmerized, as her pain faded and disappeared. She looked up into Loki's eyes, amazed once again by Asgardian technology. How they managed to do so many things with just their hands was beyond her. He looked back at her, his eyes reflecting the light from his hand. His black hair fell around his face, framing his smooth, high cheekbones. If he were an animal, he'd be a raven. A beautiful, black raven. She became acutely aware of how close they were in that moment, and how handsome he was when he wasn't being, well… evil.

"Is the pain gone?" he asked softly, his voice huskier than she remembered, bringing up weird thoughts and feelings that completely bewildered her, and she pushed them to the back of her mind in complete denial. She refused to be taken in by this man's charms. He was only being kind to ensure her cooperation.

At least that's what she wanted herself to believe…

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

He maneuvered his hands fluidly against her skin, fingers curled around her shoulder. He pushed gently, and she felt a dull _'pop'_ as the socket moved painlessly back into place. Loki had a skilled hand.

As soon as her arm was back in place, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and let her head drop onto Loki's shoulder as relief flooded her. She could see him pull a stone from his pocket and crumble it in his hand, sprinkling the fine glittering dust over her shoulder. The swelling and bruising faded, the tingling sensation in her arm disappeared. Loki rubbed the remaining particles of the healing stone onto her skin in slow, steady circles until the dust disappeared. It was a surreal and almost intimate moment, the two of them so close together. She could smell the scent of his clothes, feel the soft rise and fall of his leather-clad shoulder as he breathed, the tickle of his long hair as it brushed against her forehead.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity for both of them, his hands left her skin and the spell of silence that had fallen over them was broken.

"It's done." He said. Amelia shot her head up, embarrassed that she had lingered there as long as she did, and didn't meet his eyes this time.

"Thank you." She said, as she tried to contain the shakiness of her voice.

As he got up and moved away from her, she bent and rotated her arm, testing it. It felt as if nothing had happened.

"We'll end here tonight." Loki stated, as he handed her the usual elixir. She downed it easily, accustomed to the taste. She handed him back the cup, and he made it vanish with a flourish of his hand.

Their private moment a thing of the past, he was now a block of ice, distant from her, all his usual cockiness and humor locked some place far away. She got up and made her way to where the servant's corridor was located. She waved her hand against the far wall as Loki had shown her in the past. The wall shimmered, and the servant's passageway appeared. "Good night, Loki." she said softly, and stepped through.

Unbeknownst to her, Loki continued to watch her until she was safe in her quarters, the shimmering image of her floating in the air before him. Then he turned and looked out past the great open arches of his balcony, his eyes looking past the great city of Asgard to the universe beyond. He stood in silence, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

* * *

The events of the night before had left Loki feeling… disturbed. He wasn't sure which was worse… the fact that he lost control, or the fact that some part of him seemed to care. He had to remind himself that she was merely a means to an end. As long as she was able to be healed and could still fulfill her purpose, that should be all that mattered. When the time came, he would rid himself of her anyway.

But the look in Amelia's eyes after her injury made him feel… something. It wasn't the fact that she was in pain. He'd seen her in pain multiple times when they trained. What bothered him was the way she shied away from him and the look of betrayal that she had in her tear-filled eyes. It was then that he realized that unknowingly, in the short few weeks they'd been interacting, that some part of her, whether she knew it or not, had begun to trust him. She may have known that he was villainous and that his intentions weren't good, but she also knew he had a certain code he operated by. She had trusted him to keep her alive and safe, at least for the time being.

Instead he became the monster. Again. He wasn't exactly unfamiliar with his dark side… usually he relished in it. But this time it was different. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

He needed to distance himself from her, at least for a brief period until he could rebuild the walls that she had unknowingly begun to dismantle.

* * *

Amelia got the distinct feeling that Loki was avoiding her. It had been four days since their last encounter, and ever since he was scarcely around and continually cancelled her training in the evenings. A part of her was relieved. She wasn't ready to face him yet. The memory was still painful for her, and it wasn't just the physical pain… in fact, that aspect was the least of her concerns. It was more of a sense of betrayal; she had assumed he was a person who possessed superior intelligence, and as such was able to exercise restraint. That night had shown the opposite. He went from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde. She was expecting a Moriarty level of evil, and instead got the Juggernaut. It meant he was a loose cannon and she couldn't trust him or feel safe around him. She had developed a false sense of security, and it backfired.

She kept drinking the potion; Loki ensured that it was on her nightstand every evening when she returned to her quarters. The idea of having him in her private space made her uncomfortable. It was a reminder that she had no sanctuary, that there was no place his eyes and manipulation couldn't reach. It reminded her that she was probably being watched.

What Amelia really wanted to do was start training with Sif. After her last fight with Loki, she felt much more confident in her ability to handle pain and keep her words silent. Even when her shoulder dislocated, she realized that she could have refrained from talking if the situation had been different. If she were training with say, Sif, then she knew she could have easily kept her words within herself, despite the pain she had felt.

Amelia dwelt on the idea of training with Sif. The thought had originally given her a sense of trepidation. But now she was stronger, she healed faster. She was tired of waiting, and tired of only seeing one particularly handsome face day in and day out. It was doing things to her mind… she was pretty sure she was coming down with a serious case of Stockholm Syndrome.

She needed to be around other people.

That was how Amelia found herself in the training courtyard. It was early morning, just before daylight, and the air was a cool mist, her breaths coming out in white puffs. The open space was well lit by the universe twinkling above her.

She had tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. Finally, as the sky was beginning to change from black to a dark blue, she gave up and decided to take a walk. Now, here she was, staring at the mostly empty training grounds. There were a few men running laps along a winding pathway that surrounded the entire castle grounds, but they kept to themselves and took no notice of a curious servant milling about. Silence stretched across like a blanket, as if the universe itself was still asleep. Patches of dirt were arranged out in front of her, each with its own rack of weapons and shields. Off to the left a training pen had dummies in place for the greenest of the trainees.

She looked to her right and noticed a weapons rack against the stone wall, filled with all matters of weapons, some recognizable, some not so much. Amelia trailed her fingers along a black staff with intricate carvings, and let out a wistful sigh. How long would she have to wait? How many more times would she have to while away her days dusting books and changing sheets? Her fingers wrapped around the center of the weapon and she lifted it out of its holder. It was a heavy weapon, taller than she was. Her hands and slowly began spinning the staff back and forth from hand to hand, feeling its weight. The twirling picked up speed from the staff's weight and momentum, blurring before her eyes.

She was doing well for about thirty seconds… until she smacked herself in the face, square on the nose.

Laughter erupted behind her and she spun around to see Sif and two men watching her. Amelia identified origin of the laugh when she saw the lean man with dark blonde hair attempting to stifle his laughter behind his hand. The heat on her cheeks was immediate, and inwardly she cursed herself for her foolishness.

Sif stepped forward, her blue eyes on the weapon in her hand. "What do you think you're doing?"

Amelia shifted her feet and looked down in shame, but said nothing. This was familiar territory for her... refusing to speak was becoming almost second nature to her.

"Answer me." Sif ordered. Amelia just lifted her eyes and stared at her, putting on her best neutral face. Sif furrowed her brow.

"I don't think she can answer you." Said the mustached gentleman.

"Why not?" Sif inquired.

"Look at her robes. She serves King Odin. I recall hearing about a mute girl working in our castle who got promoted to work as his handmaid. It was hot gossip for the first week or so. Your name is Amelia, right?"

Amelia gave the slightest nod.

Sif eyed her up and down, recognizing Amelia's distinct golden robes, affirming her station. "I see. Well, these weapons are not toys." She took the staff from Amelia's hand and Amelia blushed even more. Her nose hurt horribly, but she refused to touch it while they were watching her.

The big man with the full beard spoke up. "Come now, Sif… don't be too hard on the girl. No harm done… well, mostly. You were like her once too, remember?"

"Volstagg, don't be ridiculous. I was nothing like her." Sif shot back.

"That's not how we remember it…" the lean man replied. "I distinctly recall you getting in trouble for skipping your dancing lessons to come down and race the men who trained."

Volstagg laughed and added his two cents. "I remember you always getting drunk at the feasts and challenging every man you came across to a duel!"

Sif spun around and shot a playful glare at the two men. "Really? Well, Volstagg, I remember you when you were skinnier. And Fandral, I recall when you were an awkward lad riddled with pimples and no girl would speak to you."

Fandral frowned. "Sif! Don't tarnish my reputation before this lovely maiden before she's had a chance to get to know me!" He sent a wink at Amelia, and Amelia froze like a deer in headlights. She wasn't used to being flirted with, and her silence offered her little defense.

Sif rolled her eyes. "Oh, control yourself Fandral. Or I might give this staff back to this girl and see what she can do with it."

Fandral gave a hearty laugh. "Go ahead! We can all see how skilled she is with the weapon."

Amelia began to check her surroundings to see if there was some way to escape their attention. The sun was starting to rise, and Loki would be up any minute. If he found her here...

Fandral continued to tease. "I doubt even _you_ could teach her how to use that thing."

Volstagg came to Sif's defense. "Och, that's hardly fair Fandral! I think Sif would make an excellent tutor!"

"This isn't the same as teaching the entry level troops. Those men have already been training and building their strength for decades before qualifying to be part of the guard." Fandral chided.

"So she would just start at the beginning, then." Volstagg replied. "I bet you a week's worth of midnight watch shifts that she could train to be a warrior."

Fandral clapped his hands together. "A wager? Splendid! It's been a while since I've won a good bet, and my evenings could be much better spent. Lady Sif, do you accept this challenge to train this servant?" Fandral offered.

Amelia was about to make her escape, but froze when she heard those words.

' _There's no way…'_ she thought.

Sif eyed Amelia up and down, and Amelia returned her gaze, waiting with abated breath. Finally, Sif lifted her chin and turned to Fandral. "Training a handmaiden is unheard of. Even convincing Odin to allow a noblewoman to become a warrior was challenging enough."

"Well," Volstagg offered, "Odin doesn't have to know… not yet, anyway."

"It's alright, Volstagg…" Fandral turned back to Sif with a shrug. "If you feel the task is too much…"

Sif took the bait, a competitive glint in her eyes. "I accept. And when I'm done with her, I bet you your sword that she will beat you in a duel."

Fandral laughed. "Very well then! How much time do you think you'd need to whip this quiet mouse into a warrior equal to my stature? A hundred years give or take?"

Amelia blanched. She wouldn't live that long, and she had a feeling Loki wouldn't take kindly to her schedule being blocked out for the next century. But Sif gave Amelia another glance. "A year." She replied finally.

Now even Volstagg roared with laughter. "Lady Sif, perhaps you've forgotten how hard it is to learn to battle. Even those in the guard train for at least two years just to be an entry level soldier. Do you plan to run this poor girl into the ground?"

Sif gave him a small smile. "You underestimate her just as you underestimated me. You'll see… in a year's time she'll be able to fight off any man's unwanted advances." She gave Fandral a sharp, playful look.

Fandral bowed low with a great flourish. "I accept your wager, Lady Sif. I am prepared to win gracefully."

"Well… now that that is settled, perhaps we can revisit our earlier discussion of getting some breakfast?" Volstagg asked, his voice full of hope.

Fandral gave him an incredulous look. "You already had breakfast!"

"I was taken away from my meal prematurely!" Fandral defended, as the men turned and began walking inside.

"I'm trying to keep you from getting any fatter!" Fandral teased.

"Ha! I'm already fat! Ha, ha! Besides, my wife would be beside herself with tears if I got any skinnier!" Volstagg laughed as he pounded his great barrel of a stomach.

Sif watched them leave and then handed the staff back to Amelia. "Don't worry… I don't need to teach you everything… just enough to beat Fandral. I know all his tricks so I'll teach you how to outsmart him." Sif grinned. "And then, if you still decide you want to fight, then perhaps I can convince Odin into making you a warrior like myself. It would be nice to have another woman around. Let's show these oafs what we're made of."

Amelia gave a small smile and nodded. She liked Sif.

"Since you're here this early, I assume that means you're available in the morning. I will meet you here every morning, two hours before dawn." Sif said. Amelia's eyes widened. There was no way she could handle training with Sif _and_ Loki. She'd surely die of exhaustion.

Sif turned to leave, but paused and looked back at Amelia, eyeing the staff in her hand. "Oh, and by the way… that weapon is clearly too big for you. I suggest you select a smaller staff; it will give you more mobility."

Amelia nodded and Sif left, leaving Amelia completely dumbfounded.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 _Guilt upon the conscience, like rust upon iron, both defiles and consumes it, gnawing and creeping into it, as that does which at last eats out the very heart and substance of the metal. – Robert South_

Loki returned to his quarters at the end of the day and reclined in the luxurious comfort of the chair behind his great desk, giving his mind a moment to clear into quiet. He eyed the study around him and noted that Amelia had already swept through and tidied up the space. He tuned his ears momentarily, listening for any hint as to her whereabouts. It had been four days since they had trained, and while he preferred to have more time before having to interact with her, he needed to ensure her strength wasn't waning and that the elixir he was still giving her was doing its work.

He waited in silence, tuning his ears for any clues as to her location in the labyrinth of his quarters. The sun was still shining outside, light spilling through great open windows that offered their panoramic views. The faint sound of warriors training in the courtyard mixed with the singing of the birds in the trees were lifted on the wind and carried through to his ears. Finally, after a long moment, he caught the faint sound of singing coming from the reading room connected to the study.

Loki furrowed his brow. _Not possible…_

He rose from his seat and took quiet steps towards the source of the sound. The tall, intricately carved door was open merely a crack; between that and the sounds from outside, it was no surprise that Amelia didn't hear him return. As he got closer to the door frame he realized that she was humming, and he smirked at her cleverness. He hesitated at the door and stood there in secrecy as he listened to the sound of her voice as she hummed a slow melody. Even without her words, her voice was beautiful, echoing slightly off of the tall walls and high ceilings, and for the briefest of moments Loki wished he didn't have to silence her outside of his company just so he could hear the words.

He had planned on interrupting her, to make her jump and throw her off a bit just for the fun of it, but something about this moment felt strangely private. For once he wanted to leave it untarnished. He looked back at his desk across the room and laced a quick illusion of himself as he stepped away behind the door. With the slightest shift of his eyes, the Loki illusion came to life, pushing the chair back from the desk and standing up, the legs of the chair scraping loudly across the floor. The illusion's footfalls echoed all the way until it reached where Loki stood, and then vanished, forming a seamless transition from illusion to reality.

His hand hesitated on the door knob and he listened. Sure enough, the room on the other side was silent. He pushed the door open and there she was, on the opposite end of the room, cleaning the golden frame of a large portrait of his late mother. She didn't turn to greet or acknowledge his presence, which was to Loki's benefit.

His voice caught in his throat for a moment as he stared at his mother's face, her gentle knowing eyes and the small upturned corners of her mouth captured in time. He had recalled watching the painting take place when he was younger, and at the time he never understood why she insisted on the portrait to be made through old-fashioned means. He understood now; the artist captured her spirit in a way that more modern methods could not. The painting sat there with such realism that he could almost imagine her gazing into him, seeing his soul for what it was, her arms opening wide for an embrace…

The memory of his mother's mirage disappearing before his eyes after his harsh words tore through his daydream. It was the last time he saw her.

Emotions barged their way into the forefront of his consciousness and he grappled with them for a good moment.

Loki averted his eyes away from the portrait and watched Amelia instead as she worked on polishing the frame. His feelings of pain began to fade and something different stirred deep within him as he watched her. Seeing her treat something so precious to him with such respect even though she was unaware of its value sent a strange feeling of warmth into his core that had him look away entirely.

He was losing his focus.

Loki stared at a rather uninteresting chair and broke the hold on his heart. "Amelia."

"Yes?" she replied, intentionally refusing any titles for him. It annoyed and amused him.

"Your work is done for today." Loki stated.

She hesitated for a moment but set down her supplies, wiped her hands and turned slowly to face him.

Her nose was swollen and looked to be going from red to purple. Her cheeks were blushing pink, her head tilted downward in embarrassment. She looked like she had been punched.

Loki crossed the room in three quick strides, and took her chin in his hand, inspecting the damage to her face, his body tense with anger. "Who did this to you?" he demanded.

Her eyes stared back at him, wide-eyed with shock. "I-I did." She stammered.

Loki furrowed his brow. "How could you possibly… Did you lose a fight with a mop?"

"Ha ha." Amelia replied dryly, as she jerked her chin out of his grasp. "More like a big stick."

Loki was about to comment that that was essentially what a mop was, but he hesitated. Something about the way she was averting her eyes made him suspicious. He gave her his most unnerving icy glare, and he waited as he watched her squirm under it.

There were few who could withstand his cold eyes, and she was no exception. Her words came out as a mumble. "I… was playing with a fighting staff down in the training courtyard this morning."

Loki's mouth set into a thin line, his body taught with anger. "What were you doing in the training grounds?" his voice was unnervingly calm, which seemed to make her only more uncomfortable. ' _Good.'_ He thought.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk and ended up there… It wasn't on purpose."

"And you just decided to start playing with the weapons? What if someone saw you?"

Amelia met him with silence. She started biting her lower lip, which only confirmed what he had feared.

"Amelia…"

"Okay, well… I have good news. Let me tell you the good news first."

Loki stared at her for a long moment, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "It had better be _really_ good news."

"Sif is going to train me." Amelia said meekly, as she forced a sheepish smile on her face.

"WHAT?" Loki snapped.

"She and her friends saw me playing with the staff and Fandral wagered that she couldn't train me well enough to beat him, so she took him up on his bet." Amelia said it so quickly that Loki had to quickly wade through his shock to process what she was saying. "I'm supposed to fight him a year from now. Sif said she's going to teach me his tricks so I'll know how to beat him."

Loki stood there dumbfounded. He wasn't sure if he should kill her or laugh. Instead he rubbed the space between his eyes.

"You bloody fool." He muttered.

Amelia frowned at him. "Hey, this was supposed to be good news, remember? You were going to get Sif to train me anyway. Now it's already set up."

"Don't you understand?" Loki snapped at her. "Your recklessness risked everything! What if Sif decided not to train you? You already obviously made a fool of yourself. How would that look then to have Odin calling on her to make a special request to train his _clearly_ incompetent servant?"

"It was before dawn! I didn't expect anyone else to be around! At least no one important!" Amelia shot back, her eyes starting to shine with frustrated tears. Loki refused to be swayed by them.

"But there was! What were you even doing there to begin with?"

"I was _bored!"_ Amelia shouted. At this point Loki was grateful he ensured that his quarters were always soundproofed. "You _were_ training me and then you stopped! I've been stuck doing nothing but cleaning after _you_ , like you're a damn child! I was going crazy and I needed to blow off some steam, so yeah. I went to go check out the weapons and swing around a stick."

Loki did not take kindly to being referred to as a child. His jaw was clenched so hard he was sure his teeth would break. His mouth opened, ready to lash out at her, but then he looked in her eyes. They were alive and bright, staring him down with hungry purpose.

That's when he realized - he unlocked something he didn't know was hidden away. He had intended to use her for his own purposes, to barter her life for her loyalty. It seemed it had already become more than that now. She was no longer doing this just because her life was in jeopardy. She was doing this because she wanted to. Because it made her feel more alive. Loki could relate to that. But he wondered if she even realized it herself yet. He was well aware of how much she hated him, so she wouldn't be keen on admitting her need for him, even to herself.

He wondered what she would do if he removed the necklace from her throat, and freed her from her agreement. Would she jump at the opportunity and run? Tell the first Asgardian she saw of his secret? Or would she figure out an excuse to stay? It was an entertaining thought. He dismissed it immediately, of course.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What makes you think you're even ready to start training with Sif?"

Amelia's eyes went from adventurous to cold in an instant, the silver in her blue eyes flashing at him like blades. "If I recall correctly, I held my own pretty well in our last fight."

"Yes, and you were also more than happy to shout at me during the process. That won't be possible when Sif is the one hitting you."

"I was in complete control, and you know it. I only spoke up because you were beating the shit out of me for no good reason! You stormed in here like a bat out of hell because you were _pissed_ about something and you took it out on me."

The topic could not be avoided, and deep down Loki knew that, no matter how much time passed between them. She was looking for an apology but she wasn't going to get one. Loki refused to let her have any power over him, regardless of his feelings on the matter. And he did have feelings on what had happened, feelings that had gotten under his skin and bothered him to the point that he wanted to scratch out the guilt. He couldn't show it though. He barely acknowledged it himself, creating a confusion within himself that he'd rather not address.

"You're right, I did." He said icily. "I came at you full force, and you were barely able to handle it. Don't forget I had to heal you afterward. So, I ask you again… what makes you think you're ready?"

He waited silently as he watched her. Her facial expression shifted through a myriad of emotions at his callousness. Finally, she squared her shoulders.

"I will handle it because Sif is nothing like you. She will be strict with me, but she won't be cruel. She will push me but she won't try to break me. Train me if you must. But if you ever treat me like that again, then you better follow through and kill me, because our arrangement will be done. And you will never find what you're looking for."

He stared at her for a long moment, assessing. She had an ember within herself that was well stoked now into flames. She was stronger than he had originally given her credit for, and he appreciated the challenge. Still, her disdain of him was only adding more to his own confusion and twists of emotion.

"You continue to impress. When will you start your secret training with Sif?" he finally asked. The sooner he could get what he needed from this girl, the sooner he could drop her and things could return to the way they were before.

"In the early morning, before sunrise every day. Starting immediately. She's given me a year to get me good enough to beat Fandral."

"A year? She's a fool to think she can get you to that level that quickly. It's fine, though. I don't anticipate that we'll need that much time to get the results we need. But we're going to continue our evenings until I'm confident you don't need them anymore."

Amelia's posture slumped. "I'm sure my trainings with Sif will be enough to ensure my elixir continues working..."

"You're wrong. You think Sif is going to immediately start training you in the ways of combat? As far as she knows, you're as green as summer grass when it comes to fighting, spending all your time cooped up in the castle doing chores. She's going to have to build your strength and endurance first. Not all Asgardians are great fighters right out the gate."

Amelia's face fell slightly. "But I won't get any rest."

Loki peered at her with his intelligent eyes. "No, I suppose you won't."

"I honestly think you're trying to kill me."

Loki grinned at her. "That's what you get for getting yourself into trouble. Now…" he motioned towards his study. "Shall we?"

* * *

Amelia hated to admit that Loki was right. Her first training with Sif had absolutely nothing to do with combat. Instead, Sif had her running laps. Amelia hated running, and her time in the castle had been no help to her. Her elixir did give her more of a boost in strength which helped her endurance, but compared to Asgardians, she was woefully falling short of what was expected of a warrior. Even her trainings with Loki could not help her here, as blocking his hits had nothing to do with cardio.

Amelia wanted to complain, to grumble under her breath, but she couldn't even do that much. So, she grumbled in her head and as she ran around the winding pathways, her cheeks puffing with each breath, she created amazingly epic angry monologues to spew at Loki the next time she saw him. This was all his fault after all, putting her in this position. She was supposed to be pouring wine goblets and serving delicacies as she listened in on private conversations of Asgardian politics. She wasn't supposed to actually have to learn to fight and deal with new bruises and aches each day. And why did she have to run? Wouldn't a duel be close combat? Or was she supposed to run laps around Fandral until he got dizzy and fell over?

Amelia's lungs were burning and her calf muscles were already cramping. It was still dark outside, the horizon just beginning to turn a slightly lighter shade of blue. She was exhausted from retiring to her quarters so late and getting up so early, and she still had to do her work and meet with Loki in the evening. She wondered if she should just sleep through dinner time to give herself extra rest. Or maybe she could be _really_ rebellious and take a midday nap while Loki sat on his throne, chores be damned. It's not like he would fire her.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, and came to a halt. She doubled over, her hands on her knees as she took deep, ragged breaths.

"Why are you stopping?" Sif asked sternly. "You must continue. If you stop when it gets tough then you will never improve."

Amelia wanted to shoot her an angry glare, but thought better of it. She forced her muscles to move again, and she continued along the path, Sif following closely behind her. Sif, of course, was unphased by the exercise. She hadn't even begun to sweat, her breathing was rhythmic and unstrained, and her hair was still in a perfect ponytail, bouncing on her back. This was a leisurely stroll for her.

Amelia, on the other hand, felt frazzled, heavy, and completely unattractive. Her shirt was already sticky with sweat, particularly under her arms, between her breasts, and dripping down her lower back. Her thighs chafed. Her calves were cramping. Her feet had blisters. She was uncomfortable to say the least.

By the time they made their way back to their starting point, Amelia's thigh muscles were itching and her stomach was rolling with nausea. She immediately sat down on the steps and put her head between her legs, as Sif watched her with mild reproach.

"How is the first day of training, Lady Sif?" Commented a familiar boisterous voice.

Amelia didn't have to turn around immediately to see who it was. Sure enough, Fandral came into view, holding a beautiful golden apple in his hand, a bite already missing from it. It looked like a delicious apple.

"It goes well." Sif replied. Amelia eyed her as she shimmered slightly, and sucked on her cheek in annoyance.

' _Just say what you think. I'm completely unfit for this.'_ Amelia thought. It wasn't like not hearing the words made them any less true.

"Yes, I can see that." Fandral replied as he looked down at Amelia, who caught his eye through her sweaty hair. "Do you plan to train her or kill her? She looks as if she's about to faint."

"Don't be so quick to judge, Fandral." Sif scolded. "It will take time, but she will get there. She has a will about her, I can tell."

Sif didn't shimmer this time, and the annoyance Amelia felt dissipated.

"Who said I was judging? I am merely concerned for her well-being!" Fandral scoffed in mock hurt and a small blur. Ugh. She couldn't even appreciate simple teasing jokes without her lie detector going off.

Sif gave him a look of disbelief, then gave a gesture of her head for Amelia to rejoin her.

As Amelia got closer to her, Sif whispered to her. "Pay him no heed. He's merely here to cause discomfort. He'll see soon enough that there's more than enough strength in you to be warrior."

"What was that?" Fandral called over to her.

Sift turned and gave him a smile. "Nothing to do with you. Why don't you go find a pretty girl to flirt with?"

Fandral gave her a grin. "Lady Sif, why you think I'm doing here?" He gave Amelia a wink, and she immediately turned her head away to hide her blushing cheeks.

His obvious flirtation with her made her uncomfortable. It wasn't his looks – he was attractive enough. But she knew he had a reputation for getting around, and she didn't really care much for womanizers. As far as liars went, they were some of the worst. Her senses couldn't handle it.

She almost laughed to herself at the irony of her thoughts. She was more than happy to scorn Fandral for his promiscuity, yet she continued to work for Loki, a whole other different level of deception. By comparison, Fandral was an angel.

"Come, let us continue." Sif said, blatantly ignoring him.

Amelia nodded and took her position with Sif to begin a series of agility and strength exercises. She was going to do this. She had to do this. This was her life now.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

" _Why does the mind do such things? Turn on us, rend us, dig the claws in. If you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. Maybe it's much the same."  
― Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin_

Time blurred for Amelia as days turned into weeks. Her body was constantly sore and aching, but she could tell she was getting stronger. She hoped that Sif would start teaching her combat any day now. She enjoyed her mornings with Sif, even when Fandral and Volstagg occasionally showed up to observe or spar with each other. It was nice to be around others who kept themselves lighthearted and honest. They seemed so… normal. It was a stark comparison to the time she spent with Loki. He gravitated from playful mischief to deep, dark moods of silence, and she could never anticipate which one he would be on any given day. When he wasn't distracting her with his games, he was reserved, walled off, his thoughts far away in a place she couldn't follow.

He was searching for something. Desperately. She knew that much. Every night he questioned her on her trainings with Sif, having her recount every detail of the interaction, every word that was said. She wasn't sure if he kept notes of whatever clues he had gathered, or if he kept everything tightly sealed in his brain. Whatever the case, whatever he was looking for couldn't be found in documents or texts; she could tell that much from how frustrated he was. He didn't show his anger outright, but every now and then she caught glimpses of it in his eyes, or heard it when he shut the doors harder than necessary and paced in his study, his hands clasped behind his back.

Still, for all of his anger, he never once took it out on her again. That much she was grateful for. She wasn't sure if her words had affected him in some way, or if he had his own reasons for keeping his temper in check when he was in her presence. Whatever the case, they didn't discuss that night again. It seemed that they had both said everything they intended to say on the matter.

What Amelia did struggle with on a daily basis was her feelings towards Loki. She found herself actually enjoying her time with him despite all that had happened between them and the type of person she knew he was. Their time spent together never went deeper than their sparring and her mission reports, but even those times were filled with the minutiae of human connection. Jokes here, sarcasm there. Perhaps there's just something innate in humans that craved attachment with another person, no matter the circumstances. A survivalist need to be part of a group, even if that group was only two.

She didn't want to enjoy spending time with this man. She didn't want to enjoy his company, not even in the slightest. She wanted to hate him. _Needed_ to hate him. Fortunately, he had never inquired about her past again since that first night, but that didn't mean that she forgot. Every time she found herself getting comfortable, she remembered her family and the attack on New York. The deafening sounds of violence, the frightened screams of her family, the smell of the blood… Every time she forced herself to remember, the pain would return in her heart and her hatred would burn bright again. It was his fault. It was all his fault.

But now there was a new layer blanketing her anger. Shame. A deep, heavy shame would smother her as she realized that she was, figuratively speaking, sleeping with the enemy… and enjoying it. Her parents were probably rolling in their graves.

So, time and time again, she would harden herself to him upon their next visit. She spoke less, avoided his pale green eyes, and refused to grin or smile no matter how entertaining he was. Every time, he noticed and prodded and pried in the way that only Loki could do, forcing his engaging smiles on her. She could tell he enjoyed it and she wasn't sure why. She knew she meant nothing to him, that she was a means to an end. He may be charming, but his charms were just a tool for him. There was no sense of friendship between them, no emotional interest or investment beyond their arrangement. So her only explanation was that he did it out of cruelty, simply because he knew it bothered her and he found it fun to get under her skin.

She wished she could believe that. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she had a feeling that he was somehow drawn to her too, even in the smallest fraction. Did he struggle with the same need that she felt? How long had he been by himself, and how could he stand it? Amelia was sure that if she were in his shoes, she would have lost her mind. Perhaps in a way that was what happened for him. He went from having everything to having nothing.

It was always easier to see a person who commits evil deeds as a shallow archetype purely motivated by destruction for destruction's sake. But if her time with Loki taught her anything it was that he was far from shallow. He was intelligent, charming and, strangely enough, seemed to be making a good king. She always kept her ears open during her meals in the mess hall, and she never heard any complaints or negative words regarding the king and how he ruled. Of course, part of that may be due to Loki maintaining his disguise. If he ever decided to detour from Odin's methods, the people would surely take notice. Perhaps he was still lining up his chess pieces, even though he already took the king.

What made all of this even harder for her was the fact that he rarely lied to her, and when he did he either admitted it outright or lied to her over inconsequential things. This meant he was always a step ahead of her, mindful of choosing his words, and avoiding topics he'd rather not discuss. In the beginning she had tried to pry, to figure out some of what he was hiding from her, but to no avail. It unnerved her that she didn't catch him lying more often. She wasn't used to it. Even though she grew up hating her gift, at least she always knew where she stood. Amelia always had the upper hand over those around her. But not with Loki. No, he always had the upper hand, and made sure she knew it.

Which made it all the sweeter when she finally caught him off his guard.

It happened one afternoon when she was cleaning near his desk. She was wiping down a shelf and humming to herself when she turned and accidentally elbowed a stack of books off the corner of the desk. They fell to the floor loudly before she could catch them, the pages bent and folded and book corners dented in. ' _You damn fool…'_ she thought. She never touched anything on Loki's desk; she knew he would notice immediately and the invasion of his personal space would do more harm than good. Surely he was going to notice this. She sighed heavily as she stooped low to pick up the books and returned them to the desk.

As she picked up the books with their leather bindings and delicate leafing, one book caught her eye. It had skidded a few inches away from the others, its pages open, showing shimmering moving artwork as the old Nordic text glowed off the page. She picked up the book and froze in her position, staring at it, her hands shaking.

She recognized the image immediately… Dark elves. She could never forget their haunting masks and long braided locks. One wore a red robe while a group faced him (or her?). Between them hung a dark, menacing looking object, all spikes and sharp edges, with something sinister coming out of it.

A cold chill went through her body, making her shiver from head to toe. Her skin felt electric, the hairs on her arms standing on end. Completely bewildered, she dropped the book, her hand over her pounding heart. She sat there stunned for a moment, surprised by her reaction. It was almost as if it sent a surge of energy through her. Perhaps the book had a defense mechanism built into it… something to keep unwelcome hands from touching it. Her guess was as good as any; there was so much amazing Asgardian technology that she wouldn't be surprised.

She stared down at the book, the page still open. The text shimmered in gold, it's sharp lines like chicken scratch to her. She couldn't read it, never had the time to learn. If she did, she would have been able to fix her situation by writing a secret note and giving it to Sif, who would surely ensure the note went to the right person – possibly even Thor himself.

Instead, she stared at the artwork helplessly. Whatever the object was, perhaps that was what the dark elves were after. They had come to Earth for a reason; she had seen Thor fight their leader. He had been surrounded in a swirling cloud of red, shards flying out of him. Was that what this object was? First the portal that opened up space and now this… whatever it was. Was this what Loki was after? The image still gave her a sense of unease, but she held her breath and picked the book up off the floor. This time nothing happened, but she slammed the book shut quickly just in case and put it back on the desk with a little too much force.

She was about to turn back to her duties and quickly move away from the desk when a small paper caught her eye underneath the chair. It was rolled up very thinly, and had been squished flat as if something heavy had been paced on it. Amelia had a hunch it had been hidden in a book spine, tucked away in secrecy. Was it in the same book? Or was it hidden in something mundane, like Asgardian finances?

Curiosity got the better of her. She unfolded the paper and stared at the scribbling writing of what she could only guess was Loki's hand. It looked like a list. Once again she couldn't read it, and she sucked on her cheek in annoyance.

She stood there, unsure what to do. Amelia had a strong feeling that this paper had something important on it. Why else would someone hide it? Should she steal the paper and take it to Sif? She didn't even know what it said. What if it was nothing? What if it was a grocery list? If she went to her without knowing what was said on it, then she could completely blow her cover prematurely.

She stared at the writing, begging it to give her an answer, any answer. Her eyes began to itch. She rubbed them, but the itching didn't stop. She blinked her eyes repeatedly, but the feeling didn't go away. The itching increased, verging on pain. Amelia dropped the paper in her hand as she stifled back a cry and stumbled against a piece of furniture – something crashed off it, shattering on the floor, but she couldn't see it with her eyes squeezed shut.

Finally, just when she was sure her eyes were going to burn out of their sockets, the pain stopped. She opened them slowly, her vision blurred. She felt wet tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away and blinked her eyes a few times as her vision returned to normal.

She picked up the paper again but dropped it as soon as she looked at it, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. How she wished she could speak without Loki around… a curse word would be a really helpful coping mechanism right now.

She picked up the paper for the third time, her hand shaking furiously. There, bright as day, the scratches of Asgardian had morphed into perfect English. She stared at the glowing words:

 _Infinity Stones:_

 _Aether_

 _Tesseract_

 _Scepter_

 _Three left_

 _This_ was what she needed. Surely Sif would want to see this…

Amelia froze, a nagging, troubled feeling eating at her. If she took this to her, that would be it. She'd be blowing her cover. And she still couldn't speak – Sif would want answers, answers she couldn't give her. What if this wasn't Loki's handwriting? What if it was Odin's? What would Sif think then? Would she assume Amelia was a spy, stealing from the king? Hopefully Sif would wonder why Amelia was coming to her with information and not think the worst of her, but it was a big gamble. Possibly too big, just yet. The truth of the matter was there was no telling how things would play out for her. She was certain Loki had a way to activate her choker if he found out she had betrayed him. Even if she could get the choker off without incident, she still had no skills to speak of to survive the wrath that might follow. Not that she ever expected to best him in combat, but even buying herself a few extra seconds before help arrived could be the difference between life and death.

More importantly, if the writing was his, then he would notice its absence upon his inspection of his disarrayed pile of books. No doubt he would check every page for any missing items. If he found out she stole from him…

Either way, she had a big likelihood of ending her life prematurely.

She sat in the chair, unsure of what to do. She didn't know what this list meant. What were infinity stones? Was the object in the book one of them? Did the words on the page actually change into English, or was she just _reading_ it like it was in English?

Realization struck her. Amelia jumped up from her seat and grabbed the book about the dark elves. She opened to the page she had seen and stared at the text on the left page. Sure enough, the words were once again transformed before her eyes, the lines of the old Nordic letter shifting into English like something out of Harry Potter.

Amazing. This wasn't her usual superpower… this was something completely different.

Immediately she began to read through the text as it documented the history of the Dark Elves and the powerful object that was called the Aether. Amelia checked back with the list clutched in her left hand. This was it. This must have been what Thor was fighting over on Earth. It _had_ to be. Too many pieces fell into place.

The Dark Elves had been defeated, so what happened to the Aether? Was that what Loki was looking for? Some all-powerful object that could bring darkness to the universe? Amelia thought about it. Why would someone who wanted to rule over everything want to destroy everything? It didn't make sense. She looked again at the other items on the list. Scepter, tesseract… and the hint that there were more infinity stones. Which one was Loki looking for and what did it do?

Amelia's head swam and she began to feel dizzy with all that had happened in the past ten minutes. She had so many questions and no answers. She didn't have time to dwell on them. She had to figure out what to do next.

Then the door opened. She was out of time.

Loki returned shortly after the sun went beneath the horizon, the sky still lit a pale purple as the stars of Yggdrasil began to wink into view. As soon as he closed the doors to his private quarters, he dropped his Odin illusion with an almost audible sigh of relief.

His relaxed state lasted only a moment, however. When he looked up, he saw Amelia sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, her back facing him. His eyes immediately noted the disheveled pile of books that were clearly not in the state he had left them in. A cold chill down his spine sent his body rigid. He stalked silently and purposefully towards her, closing the gap between him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Amelia didn't cower or even flinch under his tone, which made him all the more uneasy. She was nervous though… that much he could sense, anxiety rolling off her stiff shoulders in waves.

"It was an accident." She said quietly. "I was cleaning and I knocked them over."

Loki peered at her, through narrowed eyes, assessing her. She didn't look up to meet him; instead, her eyes were looking down into her lap. He stepped closer and realized that she held a book. A particularly old book, which he had read through front to back multiple times, looking for clues. She had it open on a page that showed artwork of the dark elves and the aether.

Amelia broke the silence. "Was this what the Dark Elves were after?" she asked as she ran her fingers over the cloud of aether shimmering on the page.

Loki stared at her. There was something off about her, but he couldn't quite place it. He watched as her eyes traced where her fingers touched. "Yes." He finally answered, curious to see where this would go.

"I saw this… in Greenwich. Is this what you're after?" she asked, her eyes finally meeting his. Loki had to quickly hide his surprise. The flecks of silver in her eyes were glowing.

Loki shook his head as he leaned against his desk, facing her. "No. The aether has been secured. I was already in power when the aether was brought to me."

"But you are after _something_." She replied, and it was as if her eyes were boring into his own, pulling out his secrets.

"Yes." He replied, then looked away from her, breaking their gaze. He countered with a question of his own. "Can you read that?" he pointed to the book.

Amelia shook her head. "No… I've never had the time to learn Asgardian. Eowyn said she was going to teach me, but…" Amelia shrugged. "Things haven't been the same for me since my… promotion."

Loki knew she couldn't read; it had been in her file in the database when he had first crossed paths with her. Still, he had to check; there was no telling what her eyes meant. They had never glowed when she looked at him with his illusion in place. Their eyes locked again and the glow that was there a moment ago was gone.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

She stared at him, her eyes pleading. His breath caught in his throat.

"Please, tell me." she begged.

Loki looked away from her so as not to be undone. That was when he noticed a paper in her hand, stuck between her fingers and the cover of the book she was holding. He leaned forward and took the paper from her.

 _Infinity Stones:_

 _Aether_

 _Tesseract_

 _Scepter_

 _Three left_

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his tone sharp again.

"It was on the floor… must have fallen out of one of the books." She answered. Loki looked back up at her, trapping her in his hard stare.

"You said you couldn't read."

"I can't," she replied. "But, you know… curiosity… it's not yours?"

He gave a rueful laugh. "No. It's Odin's."

"Your father?" she replied.

"He's _not_ my father." Loki said sharply. "Never was. I was merely a prize of war, a tool to be used when he deemed fit."

Amelia clamped her mouth shut and averted her eyes, and Loki felt a small pang of regret. He knew she wasn't to blame for his anger. But her comment meant people were still talking about him. How else would she learn of his family history? What else did she think she knew about him?

Amelia was not one to leave a topic forgotten. "Is what you're looking for on that list?"

Loki glanced at her again. "How do you know it's a list?"

She shrugged. "It's how the writing is laid out."

Loki gave a small smirk at her deduction and looked back at the list, his eyes resting on the one word that he wanted most. "Yes."

"Is it going to help you?"

"Maybe." He replied.

He knew about the infinity stones, and he knew that the aether was one of them as well as the tesseract. The scepter, however, angered Loki. Had he known he had such a powerful weapon during his invasion of Earth, he would have figured a way to use its power more fully. Thanos had gifted it to him as a powerful tool, but have never given more information than that. Just a promise of immense punishment if the item was not returned along with the tesseract.

The last line caught his attention above all else. Three stones… he was certain that the item in Xandar's security vaults was an infinity stone, judging by the reports of destruction and Thanos' involvement. That left two stones were still unaccounted for, which presented an opportunity for Loki. If he could obtain any of them then they might prove just as valuable to Thanos when it came to bartering for his life and his freedom. If he could find a way to convince the council to begin a search for the remaining stones, Loki could send scouts throughout parts of the known universe in search of them.

Assuming Thanos didn't have them already.

Amelia might have just saved Loki's life. There was a possibility that Odin had more secret notes hidden around that would provide more clues, and then Loki would finally have his bartering tool.

"Loki…" Amelia interrupted. "This thing that you're looking for… is it connected to the… the aether at all?"

"What makes you ask that?" Loki replied.

Amelia blushed and shifted uncomfortably. She stood up and set the book down on the desk next to where he stood. "I don't know, I just have this feeling…"

"You're worried." Loki observed.

"Shouldn't I be?" Amelia shot back. "You've already used one powerful object to attack Earth. I saw video of you and whatever that portal thing was that you had opened up. Then the Dark Elves used the aether… it can't be a coincidence. How many powerful objects are there?"

He knew she had more questions stuck behind those perfect lips, and if he answered these then she'd want more. He'd already answered too many as it was, in a quest to figure out what she knew. He refused to indulge her any further. "It's none of your concern." Loki replied.

"Of course it is. You've already attacked Earth once. You're ruling over Asgard now. Isn't it enough? What do you want, Loki? What more could you possibly want?" Amelia demanded, her blue eyes glaring.

Anger bubbled in him like a geyser. He turned on her and pinned her between himself and the desk. He could feel the warmth of her body pressed up against his. She was shorter than him by a good amount, her head coming up to his chin. He could smell the soap on her skin, see her pulse flutter on her neck.

"I want my freedom!" he spat. "And you forget your place. This is not a partnership, and you are not my equal. You are serving me so that I may spare your life. That has not changed, and you would do well to remember it. Have I made myself clear?"

Clearly his maneuver had startled her. Amelia's eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing heavy. He had pinned her so closely that he could feel her chest expand and contract against his own with each breath, and his own heart thudded heavily in his chest. He liked this… the power he felt in this moment; she was at his mercy. It made his own blood pump faster with excitement. But it was more than that – he liked the way she seemed to momentarily fill his senses. The smell of her, the warmth of her body against his…

Amelia nodded with a gulp and Loki backed away from her enough to let her escape his clutches. As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm. She turned to look at him, her eyes flashing, ready for a fight. He smirked at her bravery. "Never come near my desk again."

Amelia scowled at him, the silver in her eyes stabbing at him like knives. She yanked her arm out of his grasp and stormed out of the room without a word.

 _Amelia was walking down an empty street, destruction surrounding her. Tall, crumbling skyscrapers towered above her, empty and forlorn. Their windows were shattered, chunks of stone crumbling and tumbling down from giant holes in their sides, as if a great beast had taken a bite out of them. Broken glass and rubble crunched under her bare feet, cutting into her skin, making her steps slick with blood. The wind howled, blowing crumpled newspapers and dead leaves in an empty dance._

 _There was no one. Not a single living soul. There were no sounds of screams, or tears, or shouting. Just the wind. The silence was deafening._

' _I'm so lonely.' An unfamiliar voice said. Amelia spun on her feet, nearly tripping as she stumbled. Her eyes darted wildly, but she saw no one._

" _Who's there?" she shouted. Nothing but silence greeted her, and no one came forth to claim the voice._

 _She continued stumbling, searching. For what she didn't know. But she must find it, and fast._

' _So alone…' the voice said again. It was a whisper. No, it was like a thousand whispers, speaking in unison. There was no gender to the voice, no clues as to its keeper. It could have been a boy, a man, a woman, a girl. It could have been all of them all at once, or it could have been no one. Just the wind._

 _Amelia stopped in her tracks, once again spinning. "Where are you? I hear you! Tell me where you are!" Her walk began to turn into a run, sharp pain striking up her legs as her feet left a trail of blood. She cried out in pain, but didn't stop. Couldn't stop._

' _So lonely… there is no one. I must be whole again.'_

 _An icy cold fear flooded through her as the voice turned from helpless to something else. Something dangerous. She no longer wanted to find it, she wanted to escape it. She ran, faster and faster, weaving her way around abandoned cars, burned shops. But still the voice followed her, pleading, begging, demanding._

 _She was sure it was behind her now, and she dared not turn to look. She could feel its presence upon her back, imagine its long talons reaching for her. She tripped, she fell. She screamed._

Amelia woke to the sound of her own voice screaming and she immediately shot up, her panic seizing her body as her hand gripped her choker.

Nothing happened. Her head remained firmly attached to her body. She gulped in heavy breaths of air as her heart continued to pound with fear. Her bed was a mess of tangled sheets drenched in sweat and… something else. Her feet still hurt.

She flung the sheets off and choked back another scream with her hand over her mouth. Her feet and the sheets around them were covered in blood. Her blood. Countless cuts covered the soles of her feet and the pain was intense, immediately bringing heavy tears to her eyes.

She needed help. She needed Loki. She flung her feet over the edge of the bed, and stifled back another cry as she stood, slowly. Once she had the pain under control, she shuffled carefully to the servant's passage that would lead her to Loki's room. The pain was agonizing, causing her knees to tremble and her breaths to come out as gasps. As she opened the door to exit her room, she looked behind her and saw a trail of bloody footprints. It was just like her dream…

She made her way through the passage, leaning against the wall for support as her tears dripped off her chin. She shuffled as fast as she could, fearing that the voice in her dreams might return to grab her in the darkness of that cold, empty corridor. It felt like ages when she finally reached the door that led into Loki's sleeping quarters. When she tried to open the secret door with a flourish of her hand like she had done so many times, it didn't work. Her hand was shaking too much. She tried once. Twice. Finally, on the third try, the door shimmered away, exposing the darkness of Loki's room. She shuffled into the doorway, unable to see a thing. Was he even in his bed? She stumbled into his room. Was he even here? She had to make sure before she spoke. It wasn't worth the risk, no matter how terrified she was.

The light turned on.

"Amelia?" Loki was in his bed, sitting up slightly, his bare chest exposed and his black hair tousled around his face. "What are you-"

"Loki…" she whispered, her throat tight. "Help." She collapsed to the floor, unable to take another step. Even the elixir that she'd been taking wasn't enough to offset the damage to her feet. Her body just couldn't heal that fast. Blood stained the stone beneath her, and she stared at it dumbly. "I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to…"

Loki was out of his bed and at her side in an instant, crouched next to her in dark comfortable pants – pajamas, she realized. He stared at her feet. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I don't know." Amelia replied, and finally the great sobs that she had been holding back erupted from her throat, heavy and ugly. She covered her face with her hands, and folded in on herself as her body shook with her tears.

Next thing she knew, she was lifted up into his arms, her head falling against his warm, bare chest. She was too shocked and emotional to react. He carried her into the bathroom, where he set her in the massive ivory bathtub. He ran cool water over her feet, and she groaned through her teeth as the liquid stung at her wounds and washed away the blood in bright red swirls that faded to pink, until finally no color ran at all. He grabbed a towel and wrapped up her feet, then took her to his bed and laid her down. When he carefully unwrapped her feet, the towel was already stained with fresh blood. He inspected her wounds with a furrowed brow, then looked at her, questions written all over his face. With a wave of his hand, a palm-sized grey stone with a runic carving on its surface appeared. A healing stone. She remembered it from when he had hurt her shoulder. At that moment, the memory was so faded and unimportant that it felt like it happened ages ago. He crumbled the stone in his hand, and sprinkled the sparkling powder over the bleeding cuts. In a matter of seconds, the wounds began to heal until not a cut remained, and the only feeling she had left in her feet was a pleasant numbness.

Her tears began to ease, until finally, her breathing calmed. She wiped the wet streaks off her cheeks and sniffed her nose. Already the unease of the peculiar situation was settling over her like a cloud.

Loki moved closer to her, sitting next to her on the edge of his bed, and her heart pounded harder in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it. "Tell me what happened."

Amelia recounted it as best she could, giving as much detail as possible. Loki sat and listened, his eyes watching her, catching every nuance of her tone, every blink of her eyes.

When she finished, he shifted his position with his elbows resting on his knees as his fingers interlocked together under his chin. His eyes stared off into nothing, his mind in thought. She fumbled with the sleeve on her nightgown, folding it back and forth on itself, as she waited.

Finally, he spoke. "Has this ever happened to you before?"

Amelia shook her head. "Never."

They sat in silence together again, until Amelia offered up her own theory. "When… when I touched the book about the Dark Elves, something happened." Loki's green eyes locked on hers again. "I felt… a shock. Or a shiver. Something. Something happened when I held that book."

"And you find it appropriate to tell me this now?" Loki scowled at her.

Amelia gave him a look of her own. "Something about you being an arrogant ass didn't exactly entice me to be forthcoming."

"You meddled into things you shouldn't and ask too many questions." Loki replied.

She fell silent again, unwilling to banter with him with her fear still fresh on her skin. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "Did you… protect the book somehow? Hex it or something to keep unwanted hands from getting it?"

"No." he replied. "Asgardian magic doesn't work like that. Was there anything else you've failed to mention to me?"

Amelia recalled her sudden ability to read Asgardian, along with the itching pain she had felt beforehand, but wisely kept that part to herself. She shook her head and leaned back onto the pillow, staring up at the high ceiling as her mind turned over the possibilities. Something had happened. That much she was sure. Maybe there really was something about this place that was affecting her ability, amplifying it or mutating it into something else. Whatever it was, she didn't want it. Not if it brought her nightmares to life.

Minutes seemed to pass by as they sat in contemplative silence. Amelia's body began to relax into the luxurious bedding, as the feeling of fear faded. Without her internal distress to distract her, she became acutely aware of the smell of Loki coming up from the pillows. It smelled of soap with a slight hint of musk. Did he wear cologne? He smelled good. It reminded her that this powerful demigod was nothing more than a man. A warm, flesh and blood man.

Not that she needed reminding right at this moment. She was also acutely aware of Loki's shirtless torso, his lean muscles pleasantly on display for her in the privacy of his room. Already her brain was bringing up the fresh memory of being in his arms, feeling the warmth of his skin as he had carried her. Human contact was something she had been lacking for a long time, even prior to her arrival on Asgard, which made the experience that much more… tantalizing. She kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, counting the floral reliefs carved into the stone. One… two… three… it was warm in here; couldn't Loki open a window? She couldn't resist anymore and glanced down at him. Loki was already looking back at her, his eyes staring in their ambiguous way, and in that moment she was frozen in his gaze. His eyes betrayed no hint as to his thoughts, and yet the intensity of his stare made her heart thud even harder.

He was the one to break the link between them by looking at the floor. "You should return to your quarters. We'll revisit this tomorrow."

Amelia's breath hitched in her throat at the thought of returning to her room alone. She stared at the bloodstains on the floor from when she first entered, unable to speak and unwilling to move. Loki noticed and followed her gaze. Finally, her words found her. "It's everywhere. The blood. I… I can't sleep there. Not tonight."

Loki's eyes got pensive again and he stood. "Stay here." He ordered. Amelia nodded and in a blink Loki disappeared.

Loki stood in the center of Amelia's room, his eyes taking in everything, missing nothing. Not that he could miss much anyway. The blood really was everywhere. Her footprints were on the floor, the blood already dried. Her sheets were thrown back, also covered in red. He walked over to her bed and inspected it, placing his hand on her now empty pillow. It was damp. She must have been sweating during her nightmare. Or crying. He hovered his hand over her bedding, looking, sensing for anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps someone had used magic to injure her feet while she slept, which manifested itself into her dream. But why anyone would want to hurt her was beyond him. Jealousy over being promoted to her position so quickly or being trained by Sif? Perhaps someone meant to incapacitate her from doing her duties or training?

Loki found nothing. No trace of anything. Typically, there was evidence of some kind. One could not simply alter reality without leaving some sort of trail. The evidence would be miniscule, but one could find it if they knew how to look. Asgardian magic was more of a science. There were rules. He ran his fingers over the sheets, his fingers massaging the damp fabric, her blood painting his fingers. Nothing. There was no glass, nothing sharp. Other than the blood, there was nothing out of place.

He frowned. He didn't like things he couldn't explain. Loki always had an answer for everything. This completely baffled him.

Loki eyed the sky from the window. It was early morning. Sif would be expecting Amelia to arrive for training any minute and might come looking for her when she doesn't show. Loki scanned the room again. If she arrived and saw all this blood, she would assume the worst. Anyone would. Not even a woman's cycle could explain this. The bloody footprints leading to the servant corridor to the king's keep wouldn't help either. The repercussions of someone discovering this would be irreversible.

Loki was not one to clean anything. That was what servants were for. He did, however, have his tricks. It would take time. It was a complicated illusion, as it was required to hold in place even if the objects were touched or physically interacted with in some way. He had only used this illusion a couple of times, the most recent was when he faked his own death. He removed Amelia's bedding and made it vanish where no one would find it, then turned the mattress over so the blood stain didn't show, just as a precaution. Within minutes the room looked… decent. The blood stains on the floor were gone, and the empty mattress showed no signs of injury or that it had been flipped. Loki intentionally kept the mattress exposed, to allow Amelia an excuse for not making her training. They would figure that part out in the morning.

Once he was satisfied, he returned through the servant corridor, casting illusions over the footprints leading to his room, just in case. He frowned at the smeared red blood, evidence of Amelia's struggle. She hadn't walked… she stumbled. Practically dragged herself to reach him. His hand balled into a fist with her blood still on his fingers and clenched his jaw. He would find out what happened.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Hello, sorry for the long hiatus! Life has been a bit interesting for me this past year. Hopefully I'll start getting these chapters out faster now. I have up to chapter 10 typed up as rough drafts, which I'm going to be modifying and proofreading after this. If you think the story has felt a bit slow up to this point, you'll be pleased to know it's going to be picking up the pace after this chapter. Thank you for those of you who have hung in there, and welcome new readers! I hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter 8

 _"You learn eventually that, while there are no villains, there are no heroes either. And until you make the final discovery that there are only human beings, who are therefore all the more fascinating, you are liable to miss something."_  
 _\- Paul Gallico_

The warmth of the sun on her face woke her, casting its orange glow through her closed eyelids. She stretched out in the bed, her arms above her head, the soft pillow cradling her, as warm blankets were wrapped around her legs. It was like being wrapped up in fluffy, cottony clouds. A familiar scent wafted up from the pillow, and her eyes shot open in recognition.

Loki. She was still in his bed.

She shot out of bed so fast that she forgot to untangle herself from the sheets and landed on the floor in a messy heap. She hauled herself up, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. Was he here? Did he just see that? When did she fall asleep? The last thing she remembered was Loki disappearing to check her room.

Her eyes darted around, but he was nowhere to be seen. Did he even sleep last night? Why didn't he wake her? She quietly tip-toed out of the bedroom, peaking her head out with the sheets wrapped around her shoulders. His immense office and lounge room sprawled before her, large and very much empty. In the center of the room a covered golden tray and a pitcher and goblet sat on a breakfast cart.

She stared at the covered plate with suspicion for an inordinate length of time before she finally lifted the lid. It was a simple breakfast, bread and butter with a side of fruit. The pitcher held ice cold water in it. The meal itself wasn't particularly lavish, but she was suspicious nonetheless due to its provider. Too much kindness had happened in a short amount of time - surely there was something amiss.

Amelia stood there for a moment, debating to herself. Should she trust him? Her stomach rumbled its own opinion at her. The food did look good and it would save her a trip to the mess hall. She didn't feel ready to meet the world just yet anyway.

She sat down in a chair and began to eat, quietly taking in her surroundings. She had never occupied this space without cleaning it or interacting with Loki, and for the first time she could really sit back and appreciate the space as a guest. She wondered how many kings had occupied this room. How old was this architecture? Did they ever renovate? She watched the dust dance in the sunlight coming in. Then she noticed - the light was hitting the rugs at a peculiar angle.

She looked outside and almost cursed aloud. It was midday, the sun high in the sky. She had been so distracted by the strangeness of her morning that she didn't realize how late it was! She had completely missed her training with Sif. No doubt she wondered where she was. Perhaps she came to find her…

Amelia stopped breathing. Her room. It had blood everywhere, and she'd have no way to explain it to her. She leapt out of the chair, almost bumping the tray and all of its contents, and dropped the crumpled sheets as she ran back to the bedroom where the servant corridor was located. Her feet pounded hard in her descent on the cold stones of narrow passageway, as her brain struggled to find a way to fix the situation when she wasn't supposed to speak. She opened the doorway with her heart pounding, her feet frozen on the threshold. Her eyes darted around for evidence of her nightmare, but miraculously there was nothing. The blood was gone. The mattress was bare, the sheets stripped and disposed of. Her heart lifted in relief as she entered her room.

It was short-lived. As soon as her foot touched down on her floor, the room shimmered away revealing the dried evidence of the night before. The mattress was still bare, but it was obvious it had been flipped over, creases imprinting the mattress where the supports had once pressed.

Loki. He must have used an illusion to hide the evidence. She sighed as she stared at the blood that she still had to clean. She wasn't terribly surprised. He probably never had to clean in his life, and three acts of kindness in a day was probably beyond his abilities. Still, he must have anticipated the possibility of someone looking for her and cloaked the room in an illusion. Of course, how she'd explain herself to Sif's questioning without words was beyond her problem-solving skills. She wondered if Loki had thought of that at all when he staged her room.

She stepped forward to begin the tedious clean-up process, when her stomach gave an uncomfortable gurgle. A wave of nausea hit her like a brick in the gut and she bolted for her bathroom where she quickly emptied the late breakfast that she just ate.

' _Loki_.' She seethed.

Oh, he'd thought about what her lie would be… and made sure it had some truth to back it up.

Turns out that breakfast wasn't quite as thoughtful as she had hoped.

* * *

Loki mulled over the previous night's events as he sat upon the golden throne, his limbs aching with exhaustion. He had cancelled all of his meetings for the day, in no mood to deal with the bickering of old men while he could barely think straight.

After he had woven his illusion in her quarters, Loki had returned to his room with the intention of having Amelia sleep on one of the couches in the study. Morning was too close to clean the room before Sif would come looking and he wanted to keep her close by in case her nightmare returned. However, much to his chagrin, he found Amelia already asleep in his bed, her chestnut hair tousled over _his_ pillow, the covers pulled up over her smooth shoulders. It was a big bed - suited for a king of course - and it had once kept both Odin and Frigga warm, with enough space for Loki to crawl in as a child...

Loki pushed the unwelcome memory away, burying it deep inside himself.

The size of the bed didn't matter… in that moment it looked far too small for comfort. Her body may be smaller than his, but her presence seemed to take up the whole room.

Even prior to his exile when he did pursue women, he was always particular about his privacy afterwards, preferring his bed to be empty. After his exile, his solitude transformed into isolation, which left no place in his world for anyone but himself.

Therefore, even though Amelia was only sleeping, it was the idea of having her in his bed, warming his sheets, taking up space in _his_ most intimate of places, that had him feeling flustered. And he did not fluster easily. She was supposed to _fear_ him, not fall asleep in his room.

He was tempted to wake her immediately and send her to her room regardless of its state, leaving her to cope with her discomfort so he wouldn't have to cope with his. She could stay up the rest of the night and arrive to training early to prevent Sif from seeking her out, letting her deal with her own exhaustion. He walked over to the side of the bed to give her a rude awakening and take back his favorite pillow that she had claimed, but he stopped short. He watched as her long, deep breaths came through her soft, parted lips. Her brown hair framed her face like a bed of fallen autumn leaves, her arms wrapped around his pillow as if it were a lifeline. She slept as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

She felt safe with him. Well, perhaps not all the time… but for now she trusted him to keep her safe, even if it was for his own ends. And she was right – he would.

Trust. It was so foreign to him. It was a feeling that could change at the drop of a hat and yet a part of him craved it. It was the one thing he never had, not truly. A lack of trust was what had destroyed his love for his family, why he chose to fall into the abyss. And yet, the one thing he didn't have was the one thing he needed. Trust was what made a good ruler. The people _trusted_ their king to keep them safe, to make the hard choices and do what needed to be done to protect them. He had the trust of the people, but it was all a ruse and he knew it. The people trusted _Odin_ , not himself.

But _she_ trusted him. Well really, she trusted his own self-interest, but that just showed wisdom on her part. If anything, he respected her more for it. He reached out delicately and pushed back a lock of her hair with his finger, tucking it behind her ear. She didn't stir, her exhaustion too deep.

Even if she was sent back to her own room, he would still be able to smell her in his sheets, and feel the warmth her body had left. Her presence had already left its mark. Sleep would not find him easily that night. He let her stay.

Loki had found a comfortable chair and resigned to a sleepless night, watching over her in case her nightmare returned. Perhaps something would show itself in her sleep that she was unaware of. As he waited for the sun to rise, he inspected the ancient text that she had shown him, looking for anything that might stand out, any hint of magic or poisoning, but hours of prodding and investigating had found nothing. Loki had already looked through this particular book multiple times, but nothing ever came of it. What was he missing?

Amelia's nightmare didn't return and by morning Loki was entirely irate at his wasted evening. Well, mostly wasted… he did figure out how to account for the state of Amelia's room and her absence; she wasn't going to like it. As soon as the sun was over the horizon, he requested a tray of food to be brought up, and left Amelia to her slumber.

It was a slow day in Asgard, which left his mind plenty of time to turn into knots in an effort to unravel the mystery of Amelia's experience. He found it a strange coincidence that she just so happened to have her nightmare on the same evening she learned of the aether. He recalled how her eyes glowed when she was looking at the book and was certain that there was a connection of some sort, although how she was connected to it was beyond him. She was nothing more than a human… a gifted one, yes, but her abilities were supposed to be limited to truth seeing. Clearly there was more to her than that. She was drawn to the infinity stone. So drawn to it in fact, that just the mere knowledge of it had stirred something in her. The stone itself was on the other side of the universe, in the hands of the Collector. Perhaps she could have a connection to the tesseract as well. Whatever it was that transpired last night, it was powerful. That was power that Loki was interested in. If she was drawn like a bloodhound to infinity stones, then he may not need Sif and her colleagues after all. And if she did find the tesseract for him, then why stop there? Two were still unaccounted for. With that much power in his hands, even he could stand against Thanos and the Others and anyone else who opposed him.

For now, it was all speculation. He'd have to keep a close eye on her, and tread carefully.

With his ruminating temporarily thwarted, Loki stepped off his throne to peruse the keep as he sometimes did. It wasn't long before he found himself observing the training courtyard where he knew Amelia spent her early mornings. Sif and Fandral were training together, fighting off eight other warriors in a small dirt arena, their weapons swirling. They regularly co-trained the most advanced warriors, and were taking a break to hone their skills. Loki watched from the shadows near a column as they sparred with their peers. The duo was unaware of his presence and their voices carried their conversation up to Loki's ears.

"… perhaps she has finally quit." Fandral commented.

"That's ridiculous, Fandral. She's never missed a training; you could see as much as I that she wanted to learn." Sif retorted as she parried an attack.

"Then perhaps she got bored and decided to find a new tutor. You haven't even begun to teach her the basics of combat." Fandral replied as he ducked an incoming blow. "You almost had me there!" he grinned at the warrior. He continued on with his discussion. "Perhaps she's gotten scared and given up. You're not leaving her very much time left for her to learn how to fight."

"This isn't about her defeating you. You know that. She showed interest in being a warrior and now she's showing her commitment. Win or lose, if I can show her dedication and skill to Odin, then it may gain his support in allowing more female warriors to enter training." Sif said. She knocked the weapon out of another warrior and he fell to the ground, defeated.

"Good luck with that." Fandral replied. "The king lost his queen because she took it upon herself to take up arms. Her death was valiant and honorable, but the grief is still fresh. He doesn't want others to go what he went through."

"I'm serious, Fandral."

"So am I."

"I'm concerned. When I arrived, her bedding was stripped bare and she was nowhere to be found."

"Do you think she got fired?" Fandral pondered.

"Do you think the king found out?" Sif said worriedly.

Loki took this opportunity to make his presence known. He made his way down the wide flight of stairs from the balcony. The arena grew increasingly silent as warriors took notice of his presence. It didn't take long for Sif and Fandral to follow suit, their frozen faces priceless. Anything that involved humbling Thor's foolishly loyal friends made Loki want to grin.

"Lady Sif, if you would walk with me please." Loki said calmly, his trident in his hand.

Sif stiffened slightly, but held her head high as she followed him, Fandral sending her a silently apologetic look at her retreating back.

Loki walked silently for a few minutes with Sif following him closely, allowing her to stew in discomfort at his silence. Finally, when he sensed that she could scarcely handle it anymore, he spoke.

"I may not have Heimdall's gift of Sight, Lady Sif, but I am not blind to what transpires within my walls. Why did you not come to me for permission to train my handmaid Amelia?" Loki inquired.

"My apologies, my king, I did not intend to keep secrets from you. My training of your servant was part of a harmless bet. I meant no shame in it." Sif replied.

"Was it also part of your harmless bet to have her become a warrior?"

Sif visibly paled.

"It is unwise to speak so freely in public spaces if you don't want to be overheard. I am shocked that you chose to behave so recklessly. I sincerely hope my trust in your ability to maintain silence isn't misplaced?"

Sif bowed her head at Loki's unmistakable jab at her knowledge regarding the aether. "You are right, my king. But I assure you, when it comes to matters of state, I betray no secrets. As for Amelia, I will stop my dealings with her immediately if you so wish it. Just please, do not punish her. She merely went along with it because we asked her."

Loki gave a small smile. "You needn't worry; your pupil still holds her position."

"But… her room was empty, her bedding cleared. If she is not released, then where is she?" Sif asked.

"She simply came down with a stomach illness. Perhaps you arrived when she was clearing away her bedding. She is probably in her room resting as we speak."

"Perhaps I should go to her." Sif commented.

"I must ask that you do not; she needs her rest to be able to return to her duties, and if she sees you she may think she is more well than she actually is." Loki replied. "I have noticed how fond she is of her time with you."

"Then… do I have your permission to continue working with her?" Sif asked, her tone hopeful.

Loki paused in his walk with Sif and looked out of the window, watching people of various stations go about their business. "Frigga gave her life to keep the aether from Malekith. If it weren't for her combat and magical prowess then the universe could have been lost. It would seem an insult to her memory to prevent anyone from pursuing their potential. If she chooses to train with you, that is her prerogative."

"Thank you, my king."

"However…" Loki stopped walking and turned to face Sif. "If her trainings in any way prevent her from doing her duties, then this pastime will come to an end, and she will have to wait until her service to her king is complete."

"Of course. I understand." Sif replied. "Thank you, my king. May I be excused to return to my duties?"

Loki gave a brief nod. "Aye. Oh, and Lady Sif…" she turned to look at him. "I am curious to see the results of this… gamble."

Sif gave a small smirk. "Aye, my king. I will keep you informed of her progress."

* * *

It was evening, with the branches of Yggdrasil lighting up the night's sky, casting a bluish glow across all of Asgard.

Amelia, however, wasn't able to enjoy the beauty of it from her window. Instead, she lay in bed, cradling her stomach, which had long since been empty. Her vomiting had finally stopped, but her body still ached.

She cursed Loki. This was all his fault. He could have at least _warned_ her. Or better yet, maybe asked for her permission before giving her what felt strangely like food poisoning. Well, the joke was on him… his little "solution" had cost her the entire day, making her unable to clean his rooms and change his bedding. She hoped she drooled on his pillow.

On top of it all, she couldn't sleep the sickness away. She was too afraid to sleep in her bed, with the events of the previous night still so fresh in her mind. She left the mattress as it was, aware of the bloodstains hiding on the other side of it, and simply put new sheets over it between her frequent runs to her bathroom. Now she lay curled up on top of her sheets, the mattress feeling strangely uncomfortable, and stared out the window at the stars.

As if on cue with her angry thoughts, Loki appeared in her room in a blink of magic. His green eyes glinted at her, as he smirked and leaned against the wall.

"I see you enjoyed your breakfast." Loki commented.

"Shut up, Loki." She snapped.

His smirk spread into a wide grin, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. "I think you meant to say 'thank you, Loki.'"

"Thank you? For what?"

"For giving you a proper excuse for your absence today. Did you have any visitors?"

Amelia sat up and leaned against her pillows with a groan. "Sif came by at around dinner time, but I pretended to be asleep. _She_ was courteous enough not to bother me."

Loki put his hands up in mock surrender. "Well, then I suppose you don't want this?" with a twitch of his fingers, a blue vial appeared in his right hand.

Amelia eyed it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"The antidote to your… predicament." Loki replied. He tossed the little vial in the air and caught it lightly in his hand. He laughed when he saw Amelia instinctively flinch to catch it. He held the vial between his index and middle finger precariously. "But, if you feel you're on the mend, then perhaps you don't need it after all."

"Damn it, Loki…" Amelia cursed. She stood up and took the few steps it took to reach him. She reached for it, but he yanked it out of her reach at the last second. She clenched her jaw, her mouth setting into a thin line, and resisted the urge to knee him in the crotch. She was inches from him, and his jade eyes were creased with his smile, his dark hair handsomely framing his face. It wasn't fair that he was so attractive. He smelled good, too, and it brought up the poorly-timed memory of the evening prior. Finally, just as she was about to reach her breaking point, he lowered his hand and she snatched the vial from it. She downed it before he could trick it out of her hands.

In a matter of seconds, her sickness dissipated, leaving her feeling so refreshed and healthy that she felt she could run three miles without breaking a sweat.

"Well, now that you're feeling better, let's get back on schedule." Loki commented. "We don't want that elixir of yours to start wearing off right before you start your combat training with Sif."

Loki and Amelia had been at it for over an hour, and yet for some reason he did not end their session. She dodged his blows as best as she could, yet even when he landed a hit, it didn't seem to be enough to satisfy him. Amelia, however, was exhausted. What the heck did he want from her? Her silence was no longer an issue; he knew full well that she could handle pain without uttering a sound. Her elixir was making her stronger and faster, and she continued to heal quickly. Yet he frowned in frustration.

"It's not working." He finally said, halting his attacks.

Amelia panted breathless with her hands on her knees. "What do you mean, it's not working? Look at me!"

Loki shook his head. "I don't need you to be _tired_. I need you to be _afraid_."

"What are you talking about?"

Loki pierced her with a steely gaze. "You're not afraid of me; you know I'm not going to kill you because I need you, and the pain doesn't affect you like it once did."

"Why do I have to be afraid? I thought the whole point of this was to get me to _not_ be afraid." Amelia replied. She slumped against the wall, sweat trickling down her skin.

"No, it was to get you to keep your silence _despite_ the fear. Fear, however, is necessary. It is what makes your elixir work."

"You never mentioned that before!" she exclaimed. "It would have made a lot more sense if you did."

"That was the whole reason I _didn't_ tell you. It would change how you would think of our sparring sessions. If you're anticipating safety and if you can justify the pain your body feels, then logic can overpower fear."

Loki walked toward her slowly as he spoke, and Amelia stood up in anticipation of his presence. "You need to feel death at your feet, to feel your blood pumping through your veins and your body crave life. That's why pain is so powerful. Your body _wants_ to live." He was close now, so close she could feel the warmth coming off of him. She swallowed the lump that had somehow lodged itself in her throat.

He wrapped his hand around her throat, his green eyes staring into hers. Her blue eyes stared back, waiting, assessing. He slowly tightened his fingers around her throat. She brought her hand up over his, her own strong fingers gripping his hand in preparation to fight him off if need be. Yet she didn't. Not just yet. She knew him well enough to know when he was bluffing.

They stood there for a moment, eyes and hands locked. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest, but not out of fear. Her eyes studied a face that betrayed no emotion to her.

His fingers lessened their grip, but his hand didn't leave her throat. She softened her grip on his hand in response, yet didn't remove her hand either. Now their touch was almost delicate. Soft.

Tender.

He spoke softly. "There… see? Nothing. I could just as easily snap your neck, yet you let me linger. You're a fool not to fear me." He didn't blur before her; he meant what he said. He knew how dangerous he was.

She _did_ fear him. She feared what he was capable of, the violence and chaos that he was made of. She feared the infinity stones and what he wanted them for.

But he was right… she didn't fear for her life with him, at least not right now. If anything, she feared what helping him would cost _her_. Spending so much time with him was changing her, _warping_ her. When she had first met him, she saw him as a monster, and rightfully so. Now she was seeing him as a man, and she couldn't help be realize how broken he was. She remembered their conversation the day before. _"I was merely a prize of war." "I want my freedom!"_

She wasn't one to take on lost causes or want to save people. She had learned those lessons the hard way. She used to think her power was a gift, a tool to try to help people. People taught her otherwise.

Still, there was something about Loki that made a part of her want to understand him, even if that desire tore her up inside. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking… kind of like the look he was giving her now.

She stared at his thin lips, and realized that moments had passed between them with nothing said, the two of them frozen in time. She swallowed hard on the lump in her throat.

"Why are you telling me this?" she finally asked.

He gave a soft smirk and lowered his hand. "I suppose because it doesn't matter. If the method is no longer working, then there's no reason to continue with it."

Loki stepped away from her, and finally Amelia could breathe. Her hand absently rubbed at her throat where his had been. She thought for a moment about what he was telling her.

"Why do I need to be scared for the serum to work?"

Loki motioned for her to follow him as he left their sparring space. "What do you know of Norse mythology?"

"Pretty much nothing." She admitted as she followed on his heels. He walked past the office and went directly to the library.

Loki seemed almost disappointed by this. "Amazing how quickly we become forgotten with the passing of time…"

Amelia pursed her lips. "Not forgotten… I've obviously heard of your names… Odin, Thor, Loki..." Loki grinned slightly. "I just don't know the stories."

"Have you heard of Starkad?"

Amelia shook her head.

"Hagbard?"

Amelia shook her head again.

"Palnatoke? Sigurd? Beowulf?" Loki looked annoyed.

"I've heard of Beowulf." Amelia responded, grateful that she at least knew _something_.

"These are all heroes from a time when Odin ruled Earth, thousands of years ago. Your modern society has written them off as myths, however in the distant past these heroes were real. My father would occasionally select some of the finest men from your planet and give them the elixir that you're now drinking. However, drinking it isn't enough. The one who drinks it must be put in life and death situations, to feel that they are under threat for the elixir to give strength. It feeds off of the user's will to live. Without it, it's useless.

"No one craves life more than in the moment it is about to be snatched from them." Loki explained. "The challenge with you is that you know I'm not going to kill you."

This time, Loki didn't shimmer, which surprised Amelia. The first time he said he wouldn't kill her it had been a lie. Did he realize that something had changed?

"The point is, Amelia, is that if your will to live isn't strong, then the elixir won't work. The mundaneness of life isn't enough. Normal life breeds complacency, laziness. This elixir isn't meant to prolong the lives of lazy men. It's meant for heroes. Only heroes are worthy of it."

Amelia downcast her eyes. "I don't feel like a hero." She said quietly.

"The line between heroes and villains is not as black and white as people would like to think." Loki replied. "What about when your leaders attack another country in the name of freedom? Or a civil war erupts within a nation? Both sides have blood on their hands, but both believe their fighting for their own version of justice." Amelia's face flushed hot with anger.

Loki noticed the change. "You don't agree?"

"What was your reason? You attacked my _home_. People died because of you." She replied, refusing to look up at him. A long heavy silence fell between them, as Amelia grappled with her emotions. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "My family died because of you."

Loki stared at her, his green eyes not sharing any of his thoughts. "You were in New York."

Amelia felt the hot tears in her eyes burning. "They were visiting me while I was attending school there. We were on our way to the zoo when the sky opened up." Her eyes finally met his, her tears blurring her vision slightly. "All you cared about was conquering us, and you certainly didn't care about the death toll. So tell me, what made you the hero in that story?"

It was like the rug had been pulled out from under her and she realized how incredibly wrong her feelings were towards him earlier. She didn't bother giving him time to answer. She set down her empty cup, and stood from her seat. She couldn't sit with him a moment longer, not with the pain so raw.

Just as she was about to leave, a great bell gonged once, twice, three times. Loki stood as the sound echoed across Asgard, his knuckles white as he clutched his trident. He stepped outside onto the balcony, and Amelia, fueled by curiosity, followed him. She took her place next to him, as she found what his eyes were looking at. The bifrost, the gateway into and out of Asgard, was glowing, it's great beam of light shooting out into space. A second later, the beam dissipated, and the great spinning sphere at the edge of the world stopped its whirring.

"What is it?" she asked.

Loki's mouth was set in a thin line. "My brother has returned home."


End file.
